Anna
by madame.alexandra
Summary: A collection of one-shots leading up to the birth of Gibbs & Jenny's first child. ACD 'verse !
1. Fried Oreos

_a/n: Welcome to the little collection about Anna. Or, more accurately: the road to Anna, and some insight into a different time in our happy young couple's lives. _

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><p><span><em>February-ish, 2016<br>Camp Pendleton_

_"Fried Oreos"_

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><p>Jennifer Gibbs thought the day she found out to be distinctly anticlimactic. That is, it was un-dramatic in the sense that, though it wasn't something she was anxiously expecting or meticulously planning for, she didn't spend a week in a sort of sitcom-esque oblivion wondering why she was having all those symptoms that were so painstakingly obvious indications of pregnancy.<p>

She didn't wander around with her head in the clouds silently questioning why standing up and brushing her teeth in the morning felt like seasickness on the deck of a destroyer in the middle of a hurricane, and she didn't loudly ask a bunch of her close friends why on earth she desperately wanted fried Oreos, and she didn't sit pondering the curious occurrence of her sudden aversion to the smell of her husband's shaving cream.

Instead, she picked up a home test while grocery shopping, took it, and confirmed her quiet, slightly startled suspicion that she was pregnant, and that's why she'd been lying in bed with her eyes closed, completely still, half an hour after their alarm went off, for the past seven mornings when she was usually up at exactly the same time as Jethro.

She stood in the small bathroom off his and her bedroom, tapping her fingernails on the ceramic sink as she stared at the fancy, digital message that read positive on the white stick next to her. She tilted her head up, and thought about it – it made perfect sense, come to think of it; her period was late – though it had been irregular since she had her IUD taken out – but it was particularly late, as in – eighteen days.

She arched her brows, and took a deep breath – this was where the suspicion faded, and the startled settled in. It wasn't exactly that she was shocked; she and Gibbs had decided to scrap the birth control and see what happened in January, a fitting way to kick off the new year. It had been a middle-of-the-way decision, because she hadn't wanted to focus their lives on actively trying to have a baby in some sort of reproductive Olympics, but Gibbs was tired of waiting, and they were at a good place to start – that being said, she'd thought it would take longer than a mere month for this to happen – she'd heard so many stories from older military wives – and from reading articles online – about how it didn't usually happen right away.

She lifted her chin and pushed back her hair, slipping fingers through the knots and then tugging a little, like she used to when she was in high school, and she needed to get her thoughts straight. She looked down at the stick again and thought bluntly that it was a damn good thing she'd never risked not using birth control, since apparently she was just going to get pregnant like _that_.

She pressed her lips together and then took the stick and left the bathroom, flipping off the light. She wasn't sure what she should do with it – she didn't feel spectacularly sentimental about the damn stick, but she thought maybe it was something she should keep? Did people do that? Make scrapbooks or something? That wasn't exactly sanitary, was it?

She took a paper towel from the kitchen, wrapped it up, and placed it neatly in a Ziploc bag – then she stared at that, too. She supposed she could find some cutesy, unique way to give it to Gibbs – to make an announcement. That was such a thing these days – scavenger hunts to tell people about pregnancies, elaborate photos or Facebook videos.

Jenny made a face, shaking her head. She decided to tuck the bag away in a drawer and ask Gibbs what he thought later.

She had to tell Gibbs first, and she wasn't sure how she was going to do that.

She chewed on her lip for about a full six minutes, standing dumbly in the kitchen, and then she shrugged to herself and decided to go about fixing dinner. She didn't always have something on the stove or on the table for when Gibbs got in from base, but if she left her CIA location early, she had no problem with it. She liked cooking, she wasn't half a bad at it.

She'd bought pork chops and some unnaturally huge potatoes at the store, so she got to work on that, checking the clock every once in a while, and thinking ahead –

So, if she were pregnant now – probably, calculating lazily, about five weeks or so – she'd be due sometime in late September or October if everything went to plan. Which meant she needed to have Gibbs clarify again when he was up for another transfer, and where - -because they'd decided they wanted to buy a house, a permanent place, for kids.

She needed to have her doctor back in D.C. recommend someone here near Pendleton if she could, figure out when it was safe to tell family, and then subsequently when she could tell friends –

A funny chill went down her spine and she shivered, biting her lip – it took her a moment to recognize the feeling as excitement, and then she smiled with relief, standing there in the kitchen and grinning. She was so relieved that this had happened at a point in her life when the only thing she had to worry about feeling – was excitement.

She bit her lip, and checked her watch again, checking the sizzling food and adding some more spices. She heard the door open down the hall, and the unmistakable sound of Gibbs' heavy ACU boots thudding against the wall. She quickly hid her ridiculous grin, her heart speeding up.

She'd forgotten to come up with a fabulous way to tell him. She wracked her brains, still thinking when he walked in and put his hands on her hips from behind.

"What's cookin'?" he asked eagerly, his lips pressing against her neck. He slid his arms around her middle and pressed his forehead against her shoulder. "I'm starving," he whined hopefully.

She turned her head and wrinkled her nose, rolling her eyes at his melodrama.

"Pork chops and twice-baked potatoes," she answered.

"Are they on the twice part, or the once part?" he demanded.

"Patience, Gunny," she soothed, and he groaned dramatically. She shook him off of her good-naturedly and he went to the fridge, taking a beer from the crisper.

"Want one?" he asked.

She nodded out of habit, before she remembered that wasn't a thing she could do anymore – but then she balked at refusing, because she didn't want him questioning her, so she turned from the skillet and took it, holding it awkwardly.

"You come home early?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Slow day at the Central Intelligence Agency."

"That's 'cause there ain't any intelligence," Gibbs said loudly, smirking, only to receive a look from his wife. "'Cept you," he added hastily. He arched a brow. "What'd you do?" he asked politely.

Gibbs was good about asking after her day. She hadn't ever realized it, or appreciated it much, until a fellow Marine wife friend had complained that her husband absolutely never seemed to care if she had a good or bad day when he wasn't around.

"I," she started – and then the next words just slipped out. "I killed a rabbit," she said mysteriously – an old euphemism, old slang she didn't know if he would get or not.

He stared at her, pausing at his beer, and then snorted.

"Was it tearin' up the garden?" he teased wickedly.

She stepped forward and punched him in the shoulder, glaring. When they'd first moved in, she'd decided she wanted to start gardening in the back – a sort of homage to the old victory gardens of wars gone past, and she'd dropped the ball on it spectacularly.

He tried to compose himself, but kept grinning. He shook his head at her. She turned back to the skillet, and then turned around, hesitant.

"Here," she said, handing him the beer bottle.

"You want me to open it?" he asked, taken aback.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I don't want it."

He shrugged and took it, mumbling something about there being more for him. He started to leave the kitchen.

"Don't go watch TV," she said sharply.

"_Jeeeeen_."

"It's almost ready," she placated. "Will you get me some Sprite?"

"Is your stomach still bothering you?" he asked immediately, glaring at her critically as he obeyed.

She heard the snap-pop as he opened the can and poured it into a glass, grabbing plates for the table as well. She got the potatoes out of the oven, and poked around with the meat one more time before transferring it all to serving dishes and taking it to the small wooden table off the kitchen.

Base housing was cozy, but rudimentary, and she hadn't bothered to buy a bunch of fancy things to decorate this house since it was temporary.

She shook her head in denial, and he snorted doubtfully. She tossed her long hair over her shoulder and sat down, pulling the glass towards her.

"I tried that spicy chili marinade Saydie recommended," she said, handing him a knife. She pointed at him sharply. "If you don't like it, be honest."

He nodded – Saydie Pride was the wife of a man in his unit; a guy Gibbs had been serving with since a year or two before he married Jenny. Jenny liked her very much; she was one of her closest friends on the base.

"Jethro," Jenny began, as they settled in to dinner. She crossed her legs and leaned forward, elbow on the table – it was just the two of them and they were young; dinner was a thankfully casual affair. "When are you up for your next transfer again?"

He chewed thoughtfully, his brow furrowing.

"Mmmhmmmm," he mumbled through a mouthful, and then swallowed. "July or somethin'," he muttered slowly. "Maybe late as November, but before the end of the year."

"Is it a deployment?"

"Dunno where they send me 'til they send me, Jenny," he said warily. He didn't like to talk about possible deployments, and it had been that way since he'd returned from Iraq her junior year of college – because he knew he'd now been a long time without a hazard deployment, and his number was probably up.

He was quiet a moment, and then he leaned back.

"I put up my name for another round of sniper qualification," he revealed pointedly. "More advanced, higher pay, certification as an instructor," he grunted. "We're back to Quantico, if that pans out."

She felt some relief – she had no doubt that Gibbs would be awarded something like that, and if they could be back in the tri-state area when she was either about to have a baby or adapting to one, it would be a bonus – she'd be close to her father.

He sat forward again, giving her a wary look.

"Might mean I get deployed again before I'm out," he said delicately. "Snipers are in high demand, overseas."

She nodded.

"You were serious about applying for discharge?" she asked.

When he'd contracted last, he'd done it after his service was up in 2011 and he'd committed to active duty until 2017. At this point, that meant he could be done with his service next year, or he'd agree to another extension.

Her husband took a long sip of his beer. He looked at the label a long time, and then looked up, his eyes guarded.

"I've been lucky, Jen," he said frankly. "If we're gonna have kids, I don't wanna keep riskin' it, don't you think?"

She leaned back, pushing her hair back, and nodded – wasn't _that_ the truth. He shook his head a little.

"I got to decide by April, 'cause they'll make the next round of decisions then," he told her. "I'll apply to discharge from Quantico," he added, winking at her.

She shrugged.

"That's not something you should push for – "

"You miss your Dad, Jenny," he grunted, interrupting her.

She rolled her eyes, picking up her glass and raising it to him.

"Yes, but I love you," she retorted. She smirked. "The weather here is nicer."

He laughed, nodding in agreement – California did have some seriously pleasant weather, and Jenny loved the lack of radical temperature swings that were common to her area of D.C., Virginia, and the areas of Pennsylvania she also sometimes called home.

They were going to have a lot to talk about in the next few months – this discussion needed to happen again, later, but suddenly, she didn't want to talk about that right now; she wanted to get down to brass tacks – she wanted to tell him. She leaned forward, her hair falling over her shoulders, and she smirked, her eyes sparkling.

"You want to make me fried Oreos for dessert?" she asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes – she never succeeded when she tried her hand at it, but for some unfathomable reason Gibbs could fry anything from a chicken to a coconut and it was damn delicious.

He stared at her.

"With what?" he retorted teasingly. "You been through three goddamn trays of Oreos in the past month." He smirked at her. "I'm gonna go buy you an industrial pack from Costco."

"Like you would be caught dead pushing a shopping cart in Costco, you insufferable goon," she fired back, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "If you think I'm getting fat, you better get used to it," she added, arching a brow.

He looked at her warily; clearly unsure if this was some sort of trap. He shrugged and muttered something under his breath, and then he reached for another pork chop, giving her a suspicious look.

"What the hell's the deal with the rabbit?" he asked, as if he'd suddenly remembered. "I thought you liked bunnies."

She laughed out loud, and when he glared at her, she pressed her hand to her lips.

"You – when you say bunnies, it sounds," he kept glaring at her, and she composed herself, and cleared her throat. "Never mind," she said stoically. But – really, hearing a sniper say _bunnies_ was hysterical. "It's an expression."

"Uh-huh," he grunted, eyeing her. "For what?"

"Back in the thirties, they used to use rabbits for pregnancy tests," she said matter-of-factly. "They'd inject the poor little bunnies with female urine, and then cut open the rabbit to see if the ovaries enlarged. It had a failure rate of less than two percent – inhumane, maybe, but accurate," she took a drink of Sprite, and leaned forward. "So, if the rabbit died, the woman was pregnant."

Gibbs looked at her, confused.

"But if they cut open the rabbit to see inside it, doesn't the damn thing die anyway?" he asked loudly, baffled.

She stared at him, her lips turning up. He started to make another annoyed remark, and then he caught her eye – that wasn't the point of the anecdote, was it? She kept looking at him, and let him keep looking at her.

"Jen," he said gruffly, lifting his eyebrows.

"I didn't kill an actual rabbit," she began conversationally, "I did, you know, the modern think and bought a test – "

She didn't finish, because Gibbs had leapt out of his chair and rounded the table to hug her, and she was so startled by the swiftness of his reaction that all she could do was lean back and grab his arms, squeezing tightly. She let out a pent up breath, and she started laughing, her face pressed into his chest.

He pulled back after a good, long hug and kissed her firmly on the mouth, sinking into a crouch beside her chair. She pushed her hair back, tugging lightly on the long locks, and smiled at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

"I found out today," she said, a little out of breath. "I didn't think I'd, we'd – well I thought it would take longer," she added quickly, her words slamming into each other.

He nodded while she talked, balancing on the balls of his feet. He put his hands on her knees, his fingertips pressing into her excitedly, possessively, and he grinned at her, his blue eyes wide and bright. She licked her lips, looked up to the ceiling, and then looked back at him, sliding her hands over his.

"When can I tell the guys?" he demanded proudly, and she laughed, pleasantly surprised.

"Is it a competition?" she asked lightly, joking around – everything was a competition with Marines – even who got married first, who got a care package first overseas.

She thought she was kidding, but he gave her a serious look.

"Yes. I'm first," he retorted, deadpan.

She pinched his knuckles a little, and licked her lips.

"_You're_ first?"

"Yeah, yeah – my _wife_ is first," he corrected, a little sheepishly.

She flushed a little, but beamed. She leaned down closer.

"Okay, honey," she started placating. "This needs to stay between us for a few weeks," she said calmly. "I don't want to make any premature announcements … I want to make everything is okay – and our parents find out first, Jethro," she said, giving him a sharp wink. "Our parents, you promise me?"

He raised his eyes to the ceiling.

"Then my guys," he bartered.

She laughed and nodded, her cheeks flushing again. She couldn't bring herself to reign in his pride or eagerness even a little – it was a relief and a thrill that he was so excited – but then, Gibbs had never made it a secret that he wanted kids; she had been the one who equivocated.

He swallowed and pulled her hands towards him, covering them with his. He squeezed.

"You okay, Jenny?" he asked earnestly.

She turned towards him, her shins pressing into his knees. She nodded quickly, taking a deep breath.

"I'm nervous," she confided, lowering her voice. "I think … I think it's the first thing I'll have to do that I just … don't know how to do," she confessed. "But I'm happy, I am, Jethro, I'm," she paused, and burst into a grin. "I am _really_ happy."

He smirked and stood up, leaning down to kiss her again. He tilted her head up, his hands pushing through her hair affectionately, running over her back and shoulders, refusing to let up until the very last moment. He pressed his palm against her neck, his thumb moving over her pulse point reverently.

"You're gonna be great, Jenny," he mumbled. "I love you."

She smiled anxiously, and let him kiss her again. She smirked, and looked at him through her lashes.

"Are you going to fry me my Oreos?" she asked against his lips.

He nodded, pulling her gently up into a standing position and wrapping his arms around her.

"Yeah, later," he agreed hoarsely – he kept nodding, kept pressing his lips against hers. "Later," he repeated gruffly.

She stood there, struck with the thought that she'd just left behind an irreplaceable time in their lives when it was just them, just two, no one else to consider – and she didn't mind that thought at all.

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><p><span><em>February-ish, 2016<br>Camp Pendleton_

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><p><em>-Alexandra<br>story #218_


	2. All Natural Boob Job

_a/n: um, editorial note - the first chapter of this is designated as story #218, and it's supposed to be #219. oops!_

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><p><em><span>April, 2016<span>_  
><em><span>Camp Pendleton<span>_

_"All-Natural Boob Job"_

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><p>She was awoken by his quiet alarm, which was easy to ignore and only woke her up in a hazy, half-asleep sort of way – but she was woken up completely when she sensed him sitting on the bed and staring at her. She opened her eyes, somewhat amused, and pulled the covers over her face playfully.<p>

"Jethro," she whined, her voice muffled. "What are you doing?"

He bent closer, already completely dressed in his ACUs and ready to head to base – she didn't work on Tuesdays, and he could have easily left quietly and let her sleep another hour or so.

He pulled the covers back a little and grinned.

"Today, right?" he asked gruffly.

She played dumb, and gave him an innocent look.

"I think it's … tax day," she ventured.

"Jen," he mumbled, pressing his hand into her shoulder. "You said – "

"I know, I know," she said, laughing. She sat up and shook her hair back, blowing some knotted wisps out of her face. He arched his brows at her, waiting – he wouldn't do anything without making sure it was okay with her.

She sighed, entertained by his excitement. She had told him at the beginning of the month that she wasn't comfortable telling people until the twelve-week mark had passed, and that had technically been the same day as her twenty-sixth birthday. She had gotten a little gun-shy of telling people, but he'd finally convinced her to get over it –

"Jen, we been married 'bout three years," he'd said, "no one's gonna be mad or shocked."

She bit her lip, and inclined her head.

"Yes," she drawled, with the air of awarding a child a ribbon. "You can tell your guys."

He clenched his fist victoriously and grinned.

"I got fifty bucks on this, Jen," he told her seriously. "You woulda let me down if someone else got knocked up first – "

"Jesus Christ, Jethro," she groaned, flopping back on the bed and shaking her head. "I don't know why I'm still surprised you aren't joking about this shit."

"Babe, we got to entertain ourselves somehow," he retorted, throwing his hand out. "Deployments are hard on you, but at least we got stuff to do in the field."

"Don't talk about that," she mumbled, pressing her palm to her forehead. She pointed at him sharply. "You don't tell anyone's wife," she growled. "I'm calling the wives today – but I'm calling Nina, and Holly first – oh, damn," she swore suddenly.

She sat up again. She bit her lip apologetically.

"You have to wait," she corrected.

He gave her an annoyed look.

"Jethro, our parents – "

"Aw, Jen, they aren't gonna communicate with 'em, Dad and the Colonel'll never know – "

"Listen to what you just said."

Gibbs thought about it, and scowled grudgingly – of course that was a stupid thing to say; the Colonel knew everything. His shoulders fell a little and he rubbed his jaw. He'd wanted to tell Jasper on Jen's birthday, but she hadn't been ready yet – and she'd been hoping to tell him in person, but he'd had to cancel a planned trip to see her on her birthday at the last minute.

"Call him now," Gibbs suggested.

"I want to see his face," Jenny said. "I'll text him and tell him I want to Skype him tonight – and you have to be here," she said. "But – um, do you think Jackson is up?"

Gibbs checked his watch and made a face. He nodded as if it were an obvious answer. His father got up early, and California was hours behind Pennsylvania. Jacksons Gibbs had probably been awake for four hours.

"I don't think it's right to tell our friends before we tell our family," she said slowly, pushing her hair back. She took a deep breath.

Gibbs looked disappointed, but he nodded – she was right. He leaned forward and ran his hand through her hair, pressing a kiss to her lips before he drew back and stood up. She grabbed his hand to stop him.

"Do you have a few minutes before you go in?"

He shrugged.

"'M always early," he remarked.

She took another deep breath, and drew her legs up.

"We – why don't we call Jackson now," she suggested, her heart speeding up a little. "You can carry that satisfaction around all day, and then tonight we'll tell Daddy – and tomorrow you're home free."

Gibbs swallowed hard, and she sensed he hadn't been thinking straight about telling his own father – their relationship was so much better these days, but old habits died hard, and Gibbs rarely thought to tell his father things first. When they'd gotten engaged, there had been a rift because he'd just neglected to call Jackson.

"You want to tell your Dad?" she asked softly.

He shrugged.

"You tell 'im," he grunted. "He likes you better."

Jenny wrinkled her nose at him and rolled her eyes – she doubted that was true, but Jackson certainly seemed to act like it sometime. She gestured for him to grab her a phone – a cordless one from the kitchen or a cell phone, she didn't care. He got up to grab one.

She wasn't really sure how the protocol went for things like this; what was the etiquette? Who told who, and when, and why – and would someone's feelings get hurt regardless? The only way she could think to truly avoid being rude or inconsiderate was to avoid social networking, and she rarely put her personal business there anyway – there'd only been one wedding photo on Instagram, one relationship change on Facebook – when she got married – and a few things here or there to document big moments.

Gibbs gave her a smug wink as he left the bedroom, and she rolled over onto her back, staring at the ceiling. It was a good idea to start with her father-in-law – he was less likely to be snarky and blustery like her father would, and he wouldn't squeal or scream.

Gibbs reappeared with her iPhone and tossed it to her, and she sat up quickly, her fingers moving shakily as she unlocked it and pulled up the Stillwater number. She grit her teeth and smiled nervously at Gibbs as she hit speaker, and let the phone ring – the wonderful thing about Jackson was that he didn't have a cell phone or caller I.D., nothing modern; it would really be a surprise.

Jackson was quick to answer.

"Hello there," he greeted, very warm, very customary for him.

Jenny bit her lip, and Gibbs cleared his throat.

"Hi, Dad," he said gruffly.

"Leroy!" Jackson boomed. "You damn near gave me a heart attack," he joked teasingly – Jenny could imagine him shaking his head and crinkling his eyes. "It ain't a holiday – didn't expect to hear from you again 'til Thanksgiving."

"Don't be silly, Jackson, I would have had him call on your birthday," Jenny piped up.

"Ah, and the little missus is here, too," Jackson drawled. "How you doin', Mrs. Gibbs?"

She laughed.

"I'm peachy," she said, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Is it warmer in Stillwater yet?"

"It's comin', it's comin'," he said. "Spring seems to come later every year – guess it's that global warmin' they're always raisin' hell about," he added good-naturedly. "Why're the two of you callin' me on a Tuesday mornin' when it's – what, seven in the mornin' at Pendleton?"

"Ah," Jenny began, uncertainly. She suddenly didn't know what to say – the only people who knew so far were her husband and her doctor; she had no practice in telling anyone, and she didn't know how.

"Hmm," Jackson murmured. "I got a lot of life experience, you two," he said sagely. "It doesn't sound like there's somethin' wrong, so my best guess is I'm gonna be a grandfather."

Jenny's eyes widened, and she looked at Gibbs, staring at him in disbelief. Her husband glared at the phone, taken aback, and then barked –

"Dad!" in an annoyed tone.

"That mean I'm right?" Jackson asked.

"Dad, you're s'pose to let her tell you," Gibbs growled.

"Her? Why aren't you tellin' me, you're my son," retorted Jackson, though with only mild irritation. "Go ahead, missy, you tell me," he added, scaling back a little.

Jenny swallowed and lifted her shoulders, picking up the phone from the bed and holding it closer.

"Um, Jackson," she began bravely, a smile breaking over her face. "I'm pregnant!"

Her father-in-law started laughing happily, and Jenny clutched the phone tighter, looking up at Gibbs. He grinned at her, clearly pleased, and reached for the phone before Jackson could say anything.

"She's three months, Dad," he said. "Doctor said she's doin' fine. Due in October, right at the beginning," he revealed smugly.

"Hell, that's about your mother's birthday," Jackson said, his voice full of excitement.

"The due date is the second," Jenny said, leaning over. She looked at Gibbs, tilting her head – was that his late mother's birthday? Gibbs shook his head, and mouthed 'the sixth.'

"You think I can come out there and see that baby?" Jackson asked. "I don't think I can wait for you two to show up come Christmas."

"We'll figure somethin' out," Gibbs said gruffly. "I don't know we'll still be here in October, Dad, I'm comin' up on my last assignment."

Jackson was quiet for a moment.

"That's good, son, that's real good," he said. "'M sure Jenny'll be glad to have you home for that baby."

"I don't know," Jenny joked. "He might be in the way," she teased.

Gibbs shot her a glare, and she laughed, taking the phone from him.

"Jack?" she asked gently. "He's got to get to work, and I've got to get up and get goin' – but you know, you're the first person we've told," she warned. "Keep it pretty quiet until – next week or so."

"You have my word, missy," Jackson said gallantly. "I appreciate ya tellin' me," he said, and paused. "Means a lot."

Gibbs was silent, and Jenny gave him a look and filled in the silence.

"I think – we'll try to see you at Christmas, Jack, maybe Thanksgiving," she said earnestly. "You know, the three of us."

Jackson laughed, and Gibbs grunted a gruff goodbye – as emotional as Gibbs was going to get – and then Jenny ended the call and covered her mouth, her eyes wide.

"Oh my god," she mumbled.

Gibbs grinned at her. She threw herself back on the bed, and he bent over her, wrapping his arms around her for a moment, to linger before he had to go to work. He kissed her, and pressed his forehead against hers. He ran a hand down her side, over her ribs and abdomen.

"I'll be home at six," he said gruffly. "You tell the Colonel I said he better be ready to talk at six fifteen."

She lifted her eyes to the ceiling and shook her head, deciding to spare him the suffering that would happen if she actually repeated that to her father. She smacked his jaw lightly and kissed him, pushing him gently away.

He got up to go, squeezing her knee affectionately, and she sat up, blowing hair out of her face.

"It's weird," she said softly.

He stopped at the door.

"What?" he asked gruffly.

She lifted her shoulders.

"I," she began. "We've been together since I was seventeen," she said, almost in disbelief. "That's why this feels so … I still feel like I'm seventeen, but now we have," she gestured at her abdomen.

He smirked at her, and winked – he didn't say anything as he left for work, and she curled up to get another hour of laziness in before she got up – and got up, and got dressed, and called the Colonel.

* * *

><p>It was easy for her to get in touch with the Colonel and tell him she wanted to Skype with him, but he whined about having to stay near a computer so 'late' as he called it, in order to be ready when Gibbs got home at six California time. He grumbled and blustered about it, and then claimed he didn't know how to use Skype, and Jenny should just tell him now – he did know how to use it, he just hated it.<p>

She finally got him to acquiesce, and she spent the rest of the day making a mental list – and then an actual, physical list, of people who she wanted to tell as soon as possible. Now that she'd experienced Jackson being so happy for them, she wasn't so anxious about telling other people – and, on top of that, her obstetrician was very encouraging about her being completely healthy and having nothing to worry about health-wise.

She knew part of her wariness had been because sometimes, when big, adult things like this happened, she still felt so young – and she realized it was because she'd basically always been with Jethro; when it came to life milestones, she never thought back to other boyfriends or romances that had given her wisdom or helped her grow up – it was always her and Jethro. There _was_ strangeness to it.

Though she didn't have to leave the house today, she got dressed in a moderately nice outfit and did a little to her hair and make-up, just to ensure she looked presentable to talk to her father tonight.

She wondered how he would react. The last time he had asked her, hesitantly, if she and Gibbs were going to have kids, she'd equivocated, said she wasn't sure, they were still talking – and that had been half a year ago. Her father liked children, she knew, but he hardly ever had an opportunity to be around them. She didn't know if having grandkids was something he'd wanted, expected, or considered.

She bit her lip – he'd probably pretend to be annoyed but secretly be happy for her; that was how the Colonel tended to work.

She spent the day being nervous, and then calm, and generally just doing innocuous things and relaxing and waiting for Gibbs to get home. On the days she wasn't at the CIA, she usually ran errands or hung out with the other wives, but today she didn't have plans, and that was actually a good thing - she'd be tempted to tell Saydie or one of the other women she was close with, and that would be very unfair to Gibbs.

When he came barreling in the house just after six, she was relieved – and she flew to the door to meet him.

"Okay," she began rapidly, helping him out of his ACU jacket while he stood there looking slightly baffled. "I told Daddy we'd call at six fifteen, so he's got the laptop at his desk – but, actually, no, I told him _I_ would call, so he doesn't expect both of us, so he's not suspicious and maybe he won't spoil it like your Dad did," she laughed good-naturedly. "So, stay in these ACUs so it looks like you just happened to be here – what?" she asked, breaking off at the look on his face.

"Why're you helpin' me take my coat off?" Gibbs grunted warily.

She paused, the jacket in her hands.

"I – why does it matter?"

"'Cause it's like a damn June Cleaver thing and it's weird."

She stared at him.

"Well, I'm glad you're appalled by the thought of a fifties-esque gender role, but I'm just being nice," she laughed, and turned on her heel, hanging the coat over the couch.

He grinned, following her, and caught her arm.

"You look nice," he complimented, and kissed her cheek. "Hey, I was thinkin' of ways to tell your Dad, and I got an idea."

"_Great_."

"I ask 'im if he's noticed anything different about you, and I tell 'im I got you an all-natural boob job – "

She punched him in the chest, glaring at him.

"I will leave you," she threatened menacingly. "All natural boob job – Christ, Jethro," she groaned, walking towards the kitchen. "You know, I'm not so sure you marrying me and gradually losing your fear of my father was such a wonderful thing."

Gibbs snorted as he sat down on the couch and pulled the laptop sitting there towards him, opening it deftly.

"Ha," he laughed smugly. "You're legally mine and there's nothin' he can do about it," he drawled triumphantly.

Jenny rolled her eyes – she knew Gibbs wouldn't actually say something so asinine, at least not to break the news for the first time. She wouldn't put it past him to say something like that when he saw him next, though.

"I'm gonna go ahead and call him," Gibbs said loudly. "See how pissed he is when he thinks it's you."

Jenny giggled and opened the refrigerator.

"Do you want a beer?" she asked, grabbing a carton of apple juice to pour herself a glass – apple juice did wonders for her stomach when she was feeling a little dizzy.

Gibbs was silent, and she heard the sound of Skype dialing, and then she heard a tinny, muffled voice, and suddenly Gibbs loudly yelled:

"Get me a beer, sweet cheeks."

Jenny shook her head – and, just as she suspected, when she walked into the living room, her father's face was on the computer, looking outraged, and he was saying –

"—better not be talking to your wife, you idiot."

Jenny handed him an unopened Corona and sat down with a neat glass of apple juice, her legs pressing into Gibbs' on the couch. She lifted her fingers around the glass and waved.

"Hi, Daddy," she greeted.

"Is this what you do in California, bottle service?" the Colonel demanded.

"He's just joking," she said blithely, rolling her eyes. "I offered him a beer – Dad, why do you even listen to Gibbs, you know if he actually talked to me like that I'd bust the bottle and cut him with it."

Gibbs twisted the cap off of his beer easily and gave her a wary look, glaring mildly at the grainy image of the Colonel.

"You see what I live with?" he grunted narrowly. "You think I'm the bad guy."

The Colonel glared at him stonily.

"You're the one who took her to California."

Jenny laughed.

"You can't still be bitter," she admonished seriously, biting on her glass. "That was almost three years ago."

"Yeah, and you missed Christmas twice," snapped the Colonel.

Jenny raised her eyes to the ceiling – he was only half joking about his annoyance with that. She and Gibbs had decided to spend their first Christmas as husband and wife alone, in California, and though they saw the Colonel for Christmas the next year, they'd gone to Stillwater this past one.

"I'm sure you had a lovely time with Noemi," Jenny said wryly, and her father quieted to a grumble almost immediately.

Gibbs grinned mockingly, but Jenny nudged him to keep him from starting anything.

"How was work today?" Jenny asked simply.

The Colonel shrugged.

"Same ol' shit," he growled. "I swear, this goddamn country's gonna have boots on the ground everywhere before I die," he snapped.

"God," Jenny sighed. "Where now?"

"Classified," was all her father said. He leaned back in his chair with a glass of scotch in his hand and gestured wildly at the computer. "I don't like this crap," he groused. "You look like one of them blurry paintings, with the dots."

"Pointillism?" Gibbs grunted.

The Colonel stared at him, and Jenny turned towards him in surprise. He looked sheepish and hastily took a drink of his beer. Jenny laughed, and pushed her hair back.

"This is as good as it gets, Daddy, I can see you fine," she placated. "You can see my face though, right?"

He nodded.

"Work okay?" he asked.

"Classified," Jenny replied smartly, and he smirked at her proudly.

"You?" he asked, nodding at Gibbs.

"Yeah, Colonel," he said, and cleared his throat. He looked at Jenny, and she nodded. "I'm gettin' out, Jasper," he announced firmly. "Didn't re-contract."

The Colonel leaned forward.

"Really?" he asked seriously. "I thought you'd never leave them devil dogs," he said frankly. "You didn't want to stay in twenty, get that pension? You'd only have to make it – what, eight more years?"

"Six," Jenny supplied. "He turns thirty-one in September, he joined at seventeen."

"Thought about it," Gibbs said, shrugging. "Didn't much like the risk, considerin'."

The Colonel snorted, he looked at Jenny.

"You glad to hear that?"

"Hell yeah," she answered. "Particularly if you think they're sending troops all over – I want him out."

The Colonel nodded, taking a long sip of scotch. He lifted his finger and pointed at Jenny, his eyes sharpening.

"Considering _what_?" he demanded warily. "Somethin' wrong?"

Jenny looked over at Gibbs – he had given her such a perfect set up. She leaned forward and set her glass down, and her father cleared his throat loudly.

"You two gettin' divorced?" he ventured slyly. "Can't do alimony on a Marine's check, eh?"

"Dad," snapped Jenny, glaring at him. "Don't joke about that, Jesus," she growled. She turned her nose up. "As if I need an alimony check," she sniffed.

Gibbs rubbed his jaw and sat forward. He poked Jenny in the arm with his beer bottle and grinned, jerking his head at the screen.

"Tell him," he hissed.

Jenny shoved him playfully, and then pushed her hair back and clasped her hands, facing her father. She took a deep breath.

"Daddy," she began calmly, meeting his eyes as best she could through hundreds of miles and a pixelated webcam. "I'm having a baby!"

The Colonel stared at her, clearly taken by surprise. He held his tumbler of scotch loosely, silent – and then he turned his head towards Gibbs, and arched a brow.

"Is it yours?" he asked casually, deadpan.

Gibbs glared at him, his jaw tight. The Colonel eyed him for a moment and then smirked, straightening up. He set down his scotch and leaned forward, clearly trying to maintain a smirk and not an outright grin.

"Of course it's his, Daddy!" Jenny said, laughing a little breathlessly.

The Colonel gave Gibbs a look again.

"What did you do to her?" he demanded aggressively, giving Gibbs a tired old look from the dating days.

Gibbs, instead of reacting like he used to, gave the Colonel a smug, proud look and put his arm around Jenny possessively, hugging her close to him.

"Knocked your daughter up, _sir_," he said, saluting him mockingly.

Jenny flushed, and the Colonel glared, shaking his head in mild annoyance – but letting a smile shine through this time.

"Ah, hell, Little J," he swore. He rubbed his jaw and leaned back. "Goddamn," he swore, clearly finding it hard to believe. "How old are you?" he asked, almost whined. "You can't be old enough."

"Twenty-six," she reminded him softly. "Since last week, you know."

He shook his head, lifting his eyes for a moment.

Jenny swallowed hard.

"That's why he – we – decided not to re-contract," she said quickly. "He might still have one deployment, but – ah, he wants to be home, you know," she explained.

The Colonel nodded rapidly.

"Yeah, I know," he said dryly, and looked at Gibbs seriously. "You're damn lucky," he said, turning to Jenny thoughtfully. "You miss a lot, bein' away when they're little. You can't catch up."

"I figured, Jasper," Gibbs said pleasantly. "Think I'll even manage to be around in October."

"That when you're due?" Jasper asked Jenny.

Jenny nodded rapidly.

"The beginning," she said eagerly. "I'm twelve weeks or so, now … we waited to tell people until the first trimester ended."

The Colonel just kept nodding. He picked up his glass of scotch and held it up to them.

"You know what kind it's gonna be?" he asked.

"Gonna be a Gibbs," Jethro drawled.

The Colonel glared at him.

"No," Jenny laughed, smacking Gibbs' leg. "We can find out at twenty weeks, but we don't know if we're going to," she said.

"You have to," the Colonel growled.

"We're going to," Gibbs said pointedly.

Jenny glared between them both. She rolled her eyes, and then shrugged – they'd have that disagreement later.

"We wanted to tell you and Jackson before we told everyone else," Jenny said airily. "Gibbs is dying to tell his guys, so – " she began, and the Colonel looked at her like she was headless.

"Well, yeah, Jennifer, he's got to be first," he said.

"For the love of God," Jenny groaned, leaning back against the couch – while Gibbs grunted in appreciation and agreement, both men staring at her as if she just didn't get it.

"So it's not just a Marine thing," she sighed to the ceiling.

Gibbs laughed, and coaxed her to sit up, pushing her glass into her hands. He gestured at the laptop screen – the Colonel was toasting them gruffly, and Jenny smiled, resting her head on Gibbs' shoulder, and drinking the apple juice in celebration.

* * *

><p>Gibbs walked into the mess hall sometime after noon on Wednesday like he owned the place – because today was the day he was allowed to one-up every jarhead he'd ever been in a foxhole with, and he was going to milk it for everything it was worth. He'd been a little more smug than usual all day, and more than one of his buddies had noticed – Pride was already giving him shit about it, and he knew Pride had always been his most significant competition.<p>

That's whom he dropped his lunch down next to before he threw his cover into the middle of the table upside down and snapped at it.

"Ante up," he ordered, sitting down smugly and glaring at them all like the cat who'd caught the canary.

"What the hell, Gunny?" groused Callen, rolling his eyes. "Somebody crown you Queen or somethin'."

"You want to back out of the game like a little bitch, G?" Gibbs retorted, placing his hands behind his head and pretending to kick back. "Or you gonna put your money where your mouth is like a man."

"You sayin' you won some kind of bet?" asked Hanna from the end of the table, eyeing Gibbs sharply. "'Cause my wife's takin' a test in 'bout a week, you might want to watch your mouth – "

Gibbs pointed to himself.

"My wife's already taken hers," he announced loudly, and gave them all a smug look. "Jen's havin' a baby in October."

Hanna swore, and for a moment the guys didn't seem to know what to say, and then Pride slammed his fist on the table and let out a sort of rebel yell, hopping up and leaning across the table to smack Gibbs good-naturedly in the back of the head.

"Congratulations, brother!" he shouted, that slow New Orleans draw coming out as he grinned and held his thumb up.

Callen slapped Gibbs on the back, grinning – Callen was single and hardly in the running, but he was always a good sport. A couple of the other guys got up and slapped him on the back or punched him in the shoulder, congratulating him, and he grinned victoriously, pointing at his hat again.

"Pay up," he ordered slyly.

The guys gave some vague, faux-annoyed grumbles and started to chuck into his hat whatever their bets had been.

"Ay, Gibbs – what you gonna do with this cash?" Hanna asked, flipping a fifty into the hat. "Diapers or some shit?" he teased. "Gotta get responsible now."

Gibbs snatched the hat up, checking inside, and smirked at them, shrugging his shoulders.

"'M gonna buy Jen somethin' nice," he drawled.

"Whippppppped," whistled Callen.

"You'd damn well better, since she's gotta put up with you and all that hormonal crap," Gibbs' CO said, coming up behind him and slapping him on the back. "Heard you yellin' across the hall," he said gruffly. "Tell that pretty little wife of yours good luck," he said, shaking Gibbs' hand firmly.

Gibbs nodded, still grinning from ear to ear. Pride shoved Gibbs' head forward and then caught his eye, jerking his thumb to indicate he wanted to talk to him. Gibbs got up and walked to the side with him, and Pride cleared his throat.

"You got a problem, Dwyane?" Gibbs asked lightly.

"Nah, brother," he drawled, rubbing his neck. "Hell, I'm happy for you, and for Jenny," he said. "Look, Jethro," he started. He frowned. "Jenny told Saydie yet?"

"Think she's calling some people today," Gibbs said. "Her friends at home – probably Saydie," he said.

"You mind shootin' her a text or somethin', tellin' her to break it gently to Say?" Pride asked gruffly. "She, uh – she had a miscarriage last month, and she's still pretty upset over it."

Gibbs smile fell a little, and he quieted down, nodding.

"I'll tell her," he agreed gruffly. "Saydie gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, nothin's wrong with her, she can get pregnant okay," Pride said flippantly, waving his hand. "Just shocked her a little, Doc told us everything was okay, but it happens."

Gibbs nodded again, reaching out and clapping his hand on his friend's shoulder. He swore he'd make sure Jenny knew to take it easy, though Jenny wasn't a particularly insensitive or aggressive person when it came to stuff like this – she'd been very calm and demure when they told their parents.

Pride grabbed his arms though, and grinned.

"Damn, man," he said. "Congratulations!"

Gibbs grinned, and clapped him on the back – he nodded in thanks, setting his jaw gruffly – he was still excited, but suddenly he was paranoid about Jenny.

* * *

><p>Jenny found it easy – and almost exhilarating – to go about telling people after her father and Jackson were out of the way. She was having her usual weekly coffee with Saydie Pride later, and she wanted to have most calls done before then – and she was having fun with the reactions.<p>

Holly was so typical to Holly –

"Oh, ew," she'd exclaimed good-naturedly, and giggled. "A baby? That's so domestic – but when is it gonna be born, when can I buy it cute stuff? I'm learning to knit, one of the coaches is teaching me – can I knit it Dallas Cowboys booties?"

-and of course Jenny had laughed and welcomed the homemade gift. Nina had also been her usual self – serene, quietly happy.

"I'm going to be in DC to visit my parents this year, I hope I can see you," Nina said softly. "Petyr's got a conference in July, too, maybe I can tag along." Petyr was Nina's tall, dark, and silent Russian husband.

The call to Ziva was a little more amusing - because in between congratulations and questions Ziva was yelling in Hebrew at her own children in the background, and filling Jenny in that her own pregnancy – her fourth and last – was going almost too well: she had no excuse to be lazy or pull a pregnancy card on her husband.

She was probably most satisfied with Jackie Vance's reaction, because Jackie screamed for a full two minutes, then called Leon and paged him on to the line – and Leon, almost immediately, to Jenny's annoyance, asked:

"So is Gibbs first? – After me, 'course," he snickered.

"You have any names picked out?" Jackie asked rapidly. "You can borrow some of ours – I always thought Alison Gibbs would sound pretty as hell, it's so – you know, suburban white CEO – ooh, or if it's a boy, you got to name it Tobias, sweetie – "

"Damn, Jackie, it's her kid, Jesus," laughed Leon, and Jenny laughed, too.

"We aren't even thinking about names; we're just trying to wrap our heads around it –"

"Hell, I bet Gibbs is over the moon, he loves kids," Jackie crooned. "And speakin' of, Kayla did a whole project on her godfather for school, Leon's sending Leroy a copy … "

She spent a longer time on the phone with Jackie than she meant, but Jackie was more special to her than most people – and then she called her college roommates, Whitney and McKenzie, who were ecstatic – though McKenzie was baffled at the idea of having a baby before you were thirty, which Jenny laughed at her for.

She told Hanna's lovely wife, who was thrilled for her; she called Noemi personally to tell her, and checked in with a few other people she'd kept in touch with, and then she took a break to get ready for her coffee date with Saydie – and she was glad she checked her phone before she left.

_Jen – Saydie Pride had a miscarriage recently; go easy on her._

Jenny bit her lip and swallowed hard, and nodded to herself – she walked down the street to Saydie and Dwayne Pride's house on base, and Saydie greeted her warmly. Jenny wasn't too worried about Saydie's reaction; Saydie was the sweetest, most vivacious woman around.

Saydie poured Jenny a cup of coffee eagerly and handed her some caramel sauce, and then she sat down and leaned forward.

"So, my husband sent me a really sweet message today," she began. "Positive, meant to buck me up," she listed. She put her hand under her chin. "He also asked if you'd been over yet, so do you have bad news? Because he's only good about being sweet if he, you know, feels like he owes it to me."

Jenny leaned back and bit her lip, her hands wrapped around her cup of coffee. She winced a little, and then took a deep breath.

"It's not bad news," she said simply. She smiled a little. "Jethro and I are having a baby," she said, for what felt like the thousandth time that day – and she waited, a little nervously.

Saydie covered her mouth, her eyes wide.

"Oh my god, that's – oh my god!" she squealed. She leaned across the table and hugged Jenny tightly. She squealed again. "That's so wonderful – oh my god, Jenny, Gibbs will be such a good Daddy, he's such a softie, we all know it."

Saydie leaned back and blushed, licking her lips.

"It's okay, you look worried - Dwayne must have told Gibbs about our disappointment, and Gibbs told you," she paused. "Jenny, it's okay, I'll be okay! I'm a lot better now, I talked to some people – miscarriages are hard, but they seem pretty common in a lot of cases," Saydie bit her lip, breaking off. "I'm so, so happy for you!"

Jenny grinned, picking up her mug and drinking it slowly, letting the coffee burn her mouth – this was nice, all this excitement and support; it was _nice_. She was really enjoying it – and now she kind of wanted to go home and revel in it with her husband.

* * *

><p>Gibbs brought home take-out from a nice steakhouse for dinner, to Jenny's delight, and mentioned something about walking down to the center of base for frozen yogurt later – but as she was getting ready to leave – freshening up in the bathroom in case they saw one of his COs or something – he appeared in the doorway and started staring at her warily.<p>

"Yes?" she drawled finally, turning towards him as she tucked loose hairs behind her ear and made sure her 'messy' bun looked neatly messy.

"You talked to Saydie Pride?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Saydie's fine," she soothed. "You know, she's so optimistic – she's fine," she assured him.

"Hmm," he muttered, nodding. "'M not worried 'bout Saydie," he said vaguely.

She looked at him curiously, and then she lifted her chin, realizing that hearing about Saydie must have worried him. She cleared her throat and stepped forward, resting her palms on his chest.

"You can't dwell on it," she said. "I'll be okay. Jethro," she paused. "After the first trimester, it's rare to just … lose a baby without a reason, and I'm okay," she promised.

He nodded, but he was still a little worried. He'd been so excited; he hadn't thought to worry.

"Hey," Jenny said wryly. "You'll get better at not worrying," she said smartly. "I'll teach you; I've got lots of practice. It's how I've been getting through deployments since I was – like, ten. You just focus on sillier, more imminent things to worry about."

"Like what?" he asked.

"Like what you're going to eat for lunch if you planned on pasta and it's all stale," she laughed.

He looked at her like she was crazy – and then he laughed, too. She leaned forward and kissed him. He hugged her, and pressed his lips to the crown of her head – it felt even more real now that everyone knew, and even if that brought more worry, he still couldn't wait until October – he just hoped to hell he wasn't deployed.

* * *

><p><span><em>April, 2016<em>  
><span><em>Camp Pendleton<em>

* * *

><p><em>-Alexandra<em>


	3. Violet and Cream

June, 2016  
><span>Washington, DC.<span>

_"Violet and Cream"_

* * *

><p>Jenny Gibbs was exhausted from looking at houses all day – hot, sore, and frustrated, she let herself in to her old childhood home sometime after five, sure her father would be home soon. Her feet were killing her, and she kicked her shoes off immediately, sighing in relief as her bare feet hit plush carpet.<p>

The door opened behind her almost immediately, and she turned, startled. Her father stopped in the doorway, taken aback himself, and then he grinned, shutting the door and sweeping his cover off.

"Jennifer," he greeted in a booming voice, holding out his hands.

She stepped forward and hugged him tight, kissing his cheek demurely and smiling. He stepped back to look at her and shook his head – he hadn't seen her since Thanksgiving, and he definitely hadn't seen her since she'd found out she was pregnant.

"How freaked out are you right now?" Jenny teased wryly, and he shook his head, sighing heavily.

"You look nice," he complimented. "You feelin' okay?" he asked protectively, looking up at her.

She nodded.

"Mmm-hmm," she muttered. "I'm dreading the fact that it's only getting hotter, but it's all been pretty easy so far," she said.

"Come on, come in the study and have a," he paused, and then veered towards the kitchen. "What can you drink?"

"Oh, actually only organic goat's milk and pure avocado extract."

"_Jennifer_."

"Do you have any juice?"

The Colonel frowned, checking the fridge.

"Noemi's lemonade," he suggested.

Jenny made a face.

"Water," she requested, and her father stared at her a moment before he got her a glass.

"You don't like Noemi's lemonade anymore? You convert to Communism?"

"Communism is by definition atheistic, Colonel, using words rooted in a theological lexicon is silly," Jenny retorted primly. She took a glass of water and followed her father into the study. "It's not Noemi; it's lemons. They make me sick."

The Colonel made a noise of interest, and sat down, leaning back in his leather chair and looking at her intently.

"Find anything good?" he asked, cutting to the chase.

She sighed.

"Don't take offense to this, Dad, but none of it was really what I'm looking for," she said delicately.

He shrugged.

"Doesn't hurt my feelings," he said bluntly. "You don't want to invest in something you don't feel right about."

She let out a quiet breath of relief – she was in the area looking at houses for herself and Gibbs, and her father had been immensely helpful in finding them realtor and real estate options, but nothing had clicked yet.

"I can move out of the townhouse if you want," the Colonel offered gruffly. He poured himself a tumbler of scotch. "Get myself a decked out bachelor pad, give this to you early."

"Are you a bachelor, Dad? Are you?" Jenny pushed, giving him a sharp look. He returned her look with a warning glare and she rolled her eyes – he was never, ever going to admit he was taken with Noemi, and she was never going to stop pushing the issue. She laughed. "I loved growing up here," she told him honestly, "but Jethro and I want more than one kid – and a backyard."

"You don't even have one," the Colonel growled. "You already planning the next one? What does he think you are, a mule?"

"Mules are sterile."

"A rabbit?"

"I'm only having one baby."

"Jennifer, you're being deliberately difficult."

"Well, I'm not going to sit here and make it easy for you to harass Jethro," she said pointedly, and then grinned. "That's entirely my job now."

"I hope you're giving him hell."

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly and leaned back.

"I actually have one last-minute place to look at," she said. "Jackie called me and told me about a place that's up for sale in Alexandria, and Alexandria has amazing public schools."

"Alexandria's got a stiff price-tag," the Colonel remarked warily.

Jenny nodded.

"Yes, but nothing in the area is particularly cheap – not compared to base housing rates. Of course, Gibbs gets a relocation stipend and I have my trust fund, so since we already decided we don't want to be in Maryland or West Virginia, we're prepared for what kind of price we're dealing with."

"I'm almost disappointed you have it so together," grumbled the Colonel.

"Three years alone with him in California has hardened me," she joked, setting her shoulders back. She laughed a little, taking another drink of water. "He's throwing a fit because I'm out here alone," she revealed fondly.

"Good," said Jasper sternly. "Jetting off alone, stressing yourself out looking at houses," he growled.

"Well he can't do it; the military doesn't just toss out leave like it's candy," Jenny said logically. "I'm not even uncomfortably pregnant yet," she said airily.

The Colonel snorted, and took a long drink of scotch. No matter what he said, he was glad to see his daughter, and more than glad she was moving back to settle closer to him and where she'd grown up.

"When do you need to make an offer?" he asked.

"Gibbs' report date at Quantico is August first, so we're hoping to close by mid-July," Jenny paused and made a face. "I wish we weren't doing all this and getting ready for a baby, but we didn't plan – "

"This was an accident?"

"No, I mean I thought it would take longer for me to get pregnant," Jenny corrected, blushing. She held up her glass teasingly. "So, good I was always on birth control, eh?"

He gave her a look that clearly indicated he did not think she was being funny, and she snickered into her water. She liked to lightly mock his sensibilities on occasion.

"Have you decided on names?"

"Dad, it's not even close to October," she warned.

"Everyone names their kids before they're born now," the Colonel blustered, glaring at her.

"We haven't."

"You got to give me somethin',Little J, what if I don't like it?"

She arched her brows at him.

"_It_ isn't _yours_," she squawked.

"You're not findin' out what it is, you won't name it," he groused. "You're no fun, Jenny."

"Why don't you and Jethro just start a club about how I'm ruining _your_ pregnancies?" she retorted loudly, and the Colonel gave her an annoyed look.

She grinned and set her glass aside – it was eerie, how similar her father and her husband felt about her alleged uncooperativeness when it came to having a baby.

"Will you come look at this house with me?" she asked lightly. "Jackie seemed really excited about it, and the open house ends at seven."

"Open house?" the Colonel asked warily.

"The owners thought they had a while to sell it, but it seems they need to move down to – South Carolina, I think Jackie said? – sooner than they thought. She goes to church with them," Jenny elaborated.

She batted her eyelashes at her father.

"C'mon," she coaxed, "you were just complaining about how I'm being so silly frolicking around alone when I obviously need a male escort," she mocked.

He stood up, looking down at his uniform.

"Don't change," Jenny said strategically. "Your uniform will intimidate other buyers," she laughed.

He scowled at her, and agreed to go, and she grabbed her things from the counter, glad to have someone to drive her – the Metro rail and city buses had been a major source of her frustration earlier in the day.

"You might even get me a lower price," she added.

"You haven't even seen the place, and you're talkin' offers?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

She shrugged, tilting her head.

"I have this really good feeling."

* * *

><p>It was a house on a place called Laurel Street near Old Town Alexandria, and it had the kind of yard Jenny called 'perfect' and –<p>

"Daddy," she gasped, laughing. "There's an actual white picket fence!"

He eyed the cute little thing, gave a gruff snort, but nodded his head, cautiously impressed with the location and the outside. It was nearing the end of the open house; the place was almost empty, except for a warm realtor who they talked to before they explored.

It was cozy inside, if a little bare - the previous family was already moving out. Jenny immediately liked how spacious the living area was.

"Wood-burning fireplace," she sighed, gravitating towards it. "The mantle is so pretty – Dad, look at this bookshelf," she said rapidly.

She set her purse down and began to peruse, absorbed in the place suddenly, and the Colonel prowled around, making it upstairs and back down before she had fully examined what she found to be a very promising kitchen.

"There's four bedrooms," he said, slightly surprised. "Decent sizes, too."

Jenny arched her brows.

"That's excellent, we'd still have a guest room," she murmured.

"So you only want two kids?" the Colonel prodded nosily.

"I don't know, Dad, you'll have to ask my breeder," she retorted sweetly, moving past him and running her hand over the banister of the stairs. She turned her head to the side. "I _love_ this stained glass," she noted, touching the door.

She furrowed her brow, still wandering, and then she turned into a small laundry room, liking its location kind of hidden and –

She gasped, noting a half-open door across from the machinery.

"Jennifer, you okay?" her father demanded, alerted by the gasp.

She mumbled affirmatively, and then opened the door, stepping onto a wooden landing that looked over one hell of a basement – it needed shelves, and the stairs probably needed structural adjustment – but it had concrete walls, and a high ceiling, and an abundance of space.

"There's a basement," she called excitedly, as her father came up behind her curiously. He peered around, and she gestured eagerly. "It's perfect – look at this basement, this is _his_ basement," she said rapidly.

"What the hell's that mean?" the Colonel asked.

"It's," she started, and then waved her hand – it didn't matter to the Colonel, but to her it meant something: she could see Gibbs in this basement. It was like his name was already written on the concrete walls.

She reached for her cell phone, fumbling with it and dialing his number as the Colonel prowled past her and went down the stairs, stalking around the basement critically.

Her husband answered his phone on the third ring.

"Do you have a minute?" she asked breathlessly.

"You okay?" Gibbs asked automatically, ignoring the polite question.

"Yes," she said quickly. "Jethro, I think I found something – can you catch a ride on a cargo flight?"

* * *

><p>With permission from the CIA, Jenny extended her stay in D.C. until the weekend, as Gibbs couldn't make it across the country until Friday. Though she'd originally only planned to be there three days, the first of which she'd seen all the houses, she took advantage of the extra time to look into other things – such as coordinating a transfer of her CIA job back to Langley, or even to the Quantico base, once Gibbs was transferred back, as well as making sure her original gynecologist, Hetty Lange could take her back as a patient.<p>

Hetty, it turned out, was more than willing, and it was Friday morning when Jenny saw her to catch up, fill her in, and have a small check-up so she could shut Gibbs up if he tried to act like she was exerting herself or something.

She was putting her clothes back on when Hetty sat down for a chat, beaming over her thick, circular glasses.

"It's always lovely to see a patient progress as beautifully as you, dear," she said, sighing in relief. "I do have so many who make bad choices, or suffer terrible tragedies."

Jenny smiled at her, and Hetty leaned forward.

"I take it the old Colonel is beside himself with excitement?" she asked.

Dr. Lange knew the Colonel by reputation and acquaintance; she'd served a tour with him in Desert Storm but hadn't worked in his unit.

"Oh, he won't cop to it," Jenny said airily. "He's thrilled, though – confused, I think, because he's under the impression I'm still twelve."

"Ha, well, fathers do that," Hetty laughed. "He's done well raising a girl, though, I'm sure he'll positively dote on his granddaughter," she remarked airily.

Jenny paused and winced. She bit her lip and tilted her head, looking at Hetty in very mild disappointment, and Hetty blanched suddenly, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.

"Oh my," she exclaimed. "Jennifer, did you not know the sex?"

Jenny shook her head a little.

"I had elected to be surprised," she said.

"My dear, I am so sorry – and this isn't even something I can take back – " Hetty began rapidly, her face the picture of embarrassment.

Jenny smiled – she couldn't be angry, when Hetty looked so horrified.

"It's okay, Dr. Lange, it's okay," she soothed sincerely. "I didn't even think to tell you that was what we had decided; it's my fault," she smiled a little wryly. "I can simply hold it over my husband's head now."

Hetty still looked miserably upset with herself, and rubbed her forehead, repeating her heartfelt apology – and again Jenny had to wave it off, because while she hadn't been too concerned with knowing the sex before she had the baby, as long as it was healthy, it was kind of exciting to know –

And it made the name game significantly easier, because come to think of it, she and Gibbs had been having much more problems with male names.

* * *

><p>She borrowed her father's car on Friday and picked Gibbs up at Andrews Air Force Base. She took him straight to the house on Laurel Street and dragged him up the stairs, pointing out the master bedroom flippantly before dragging him right across the hall.<p>

"Nursery," she said forcefully. "It's spacious, it's right across the hall so it's a quick walk and we can still keep the baby out of our room," she chattered. "You know I want that – but those base housing set-ups are so similar, the rooms are never close, and this is perfect."

"You _still_ set on keepin' the baby in a different room?" Gibbs asked, sticking close to her.

"I'm not going to change my mind," she warned, turning to him and arching a brow. "I don't want to fall into a weird habit and then wake up one day wondering why a seven-year-old sleeps with us."

He rolled his eyes.

"I read somethin' that says you get more sleep if you can just roll over and get the baby without havin' to get up," he protested.

"_We_ aren't going to get any sleep the first few months regardless," she sighed, and tilted her head. "But since you're apparently actually reading the literature I gave you, I'll consider buying a bassinet for our bedroom if that makes you feel better."

He smirked and then glared at her.

"Too bad you don't know what colour to buy," he accused.

She smiled at him secretively – he didn't know she'd been accidentally informed of the baby's sex.

"It doesn't matter; I told you I want to do the nursery in shades of green, and we'll buy black and darker green if it's a boy and cream and violet if it's a girl."

"Jen, the guys are makin' bets – "

She slapped his arm, rolled her eyes, and pulled him towards the stairs.

"Shut up about your homoerotic band of jarheads and come look at the best part."

She ignored his growls of outrage, eager to show him the crowning glory of the house. She shoved him into the tiny laundry room and flung open the door, excitedly gesturing.

"Basement!" she announced proudly, as if she'd built it herself.

Gibbs looked over the place, his eyes widening. It was exactly the kind of thing he'd mentioned wanting – he wanted a place to be able to work with wood, but he knew they wouldn't find something like what he'd grown up with in suburbia. He gripped the railing and looked around at her.

"Damn," he swore appreciatively.

She bit her lip and arched her brows.

"Yes?" she asked.

He turned to look at the basement, and then went down the stairs swiftly, prowling around – much like her father had the first time they'd seen it days ago. Gibbs looked up at her, gesturing around.

"This what you want?" he asked gruffly.

"It has a white picket fence, Jethro," she said, by way of answer. "Let's call that realtor right now and make an offer before dinner with the Colonel."

* * *

><p>The high of making what was hopefully a good enough offer on a house that she'd firmly decided was perfect didn't fade through dinner, and when they were back at the old brownstone where Gibbs always said everything had first started, the Colonel poured a glass of red wine for Jenny and shared whiskey with Gibbs, toasting luck to them as he had in April when he'd heard their news.<p>

He sat down and leaned forward, giving Gibbs a hawkish look.

"You got any names for my grandkid?" he asked aggressively. "She's no help," he said, jerking a thumb at Jenny.

Gibbs snorted in agreement, shooting her a look.

"She's bad at pickin' 'em," he accused.

Jenny glared at him over her wineglass and sneered.

"I'm not taking advice from the likes of Leroy Jethro," she goaded – it was her tried and true go to comeback. "We disagree on some," she added to her father.

"She wants to name 'im Timothy," Gibbs sneered. "If it's a him."

"Timothy?" repeated the Colonel. "What if people call him Timmy?"

"That's cute," Jenny said stubbornly.

"That's a pansy-ass name," Gibbs retorted, and the Colonel agreed.

"Well, I also like Tobias, in honor of Tobias Fornell, but I hate the nickname Toby," Jenny said. "And Fornell isn't a good last name to use as a first."

"Speakin' of, you ought to name 'im Shepard," Jasper said firmly.

"Shepard?" snorted Gibbs. "Sounds like a damn sheepdog," he growled. "'M not namin' my kid – "

"You callin' me a sheepdog, son?"

Jenny rolled her eyes and leaned back comfortably, deciding to watch. Her father had already been very aggressive with name suggestions in the past.

"You better be pickin' from the list I sent you," the Colonel went on.

"The one you checked with the no-fly list?" Gibbs snapped sarcastically. "I'm not namin' my kid after a terrorist, sir, you damn well know that – I'm sure as hell not takin' advice from a man named Jasper like he's some cartoon ghost – "

"That's CASPER, Corporal Taliban!" roared the Colonel, his face flushing. "And she's got a point about listening to a man named after some Beverly Hillbilly!"

Jenny almost burst out laughing, but instead she leaned forward, and – she decided pretty quickly that now that the jig was up and she knew, she wasn't up for keeping the secret until October, and she definitely couldn't handle this kind of insane man-child behavior until then.

"As amusing as this is, none of it is going to help us," she said, catching their attention. She looked at her father, and then looked over at Jethro, lifting her glass in a small gesture of peace. "We need a girl's name."

"We already got that down to three," Gibbs snapped.

"I haven't heard it's down to three, when the hell did that happen – "

"She likes Samantha, 'n Erica, ' n Abigayle," Gibbs started roughly, and then he paused. He turned to Jenny. "What?" he growled. "_Need_?"

She smirked.

"It's a girl," she revealed, and took a sip of wine. "I – I neglected to mention to Dr. Lange that we didn't want to know, and she accidentally told me," she explained softly. "So, violet and cream," she said, lifting her shoulders. "You're having a daughter."

Gibbs stared at her for a long time, until she actually started to get nervous, and then he grinned. He turned at looked at his father-in-law, and he started to grin some more.

"It's a girl," he repeated, directly to the Colonel.

The Colonel nodded gruffly, and Jenny bit her lip, pushing her hair back nervously and lifting her shoulders again.

"I think that might make it a little easier on us," she said breathlessly, and Gibbs got up to move over and kiss her on the cheek, running his hand through her hair.

The Colonel, for one, leaned back and smiled, running his finger around the edge of his scotch glass – he'd had it in his head that his daughter would have a boy, for some reason, but finding out he'd have a granddaughter just triggered an influx of memories of Jennifer, and all he'd missed when she was little – and then he smirked, thinking of all the headaches Gibbs was going to understand now that he'd have a taste of what it was like to raise a daughter like Jenny.

* * *

><p><em><span>June, 2016<span>_  
><em><span>Washington, DC.<span>_

* * *

><p><em>-Alexandra<em>


	4. Kittenshit

_End of August, 2016_  
><span><em>Alexandria, Virginia<em>

_"Kittenshit"_

* * *

><p>In the months that followed buying a new house, Jenny flew from D.C. to California so many times that she never wanted to get on a plane again. The travel was exhausting, and Gibbs hated that it fell on her to do it. She wished his transfer had come at a more convenient time, but as much as she'd disliked the back-and-forth and thought it a hassle, she was relieved to settle into a new house – a home – in Alexandria, to be firmly established – for good – in a familiar area near her father.<p>

It would have been more miserable, she imagined, trying to navigate all this with a newborn, or even a baby that was a few months old, and she felt that keenly as she sat in the middle of the just-finished nursery and looked around.

They had moved into the house on Laurel Street – that's what they had been calling it since they made the first offer – three weeks ago, and though things were unpacked and neatly put away, the only room that had been painted, gussied up, and readied enough to be considered completely finished was the nursery.

Gibbs had put the finishing touches on the impressively done floorboards – he'd hand-painted a violet and cream checkered painting on them to accent the pale green walls – yesterday, and he'd declared the paint fumes aired out appropriately enough to let her do the setting up of the crib, changing table, shelves – et cetera.

She had finished about an hour ago, and Gibbs had disappeared to pick up some food. She couldn't bring herself to leave the nursery, so she sat on the floor with a pillow behind her, leaning against the wall and admiring it.

It was simple, but perfectly decorated. The crib Gibbs had built was now cozied up with all of the bedding Jenny had purchased, and since she and Jethro had yet to select a concrete name yet, white wooden letters spelling out G-I-B-B-S hung above it.

There were all kinds of brand new things set up neatly around the room, items she'd received from a small and enjoyable baby shower Jackie Vance had thrown for her during one of her visits back home – she was lucky, because though she had not at all wanted it, she'd had two baby showers: Jackie's, which she'd known about, and Saydie's, which had completely taken her by surprise.

She'd taken a lot of the duplicate stuff she'd received and donated it to crisis pregnancy centers.

"Hey," Gibbs greeted, stepping in with to-go boxes in his hands.

"Hey – thought you were getting take-out," she said, cocking her head with interest.

He smirked at her wryly, and sat down, crossing his legs.

"Thought we'd celebrate finishin'," he said, and handed her a to-go box. He reached into a bag at his wrist and pulled out a bottle of red wine. "Surf and turf," he said.

Her eyes lit up.

"Steak for you," she guessed – he wasn't much of a fish person. "Oh, Jethro – did you go to Blackfinn?!"

"Got you that parmesan swordfish you love," he grunted.

She squealed and reached forward, taking the box eagerly.

"That's why it took you so long," she sighed, opening her food and taking a deep breath. She shivered. "Mmm, _thank_ you," she said earnestly.

He shrugged; it was nothing, he was just relieved she could relax now that this was all done. She wasn't having a difficult pregnancy at all, but he'd still been wary of all the stress they had going on.

"I sent some pictures to Dad," Jenny said. She laughed. "He tried to send an emojii back but it was the one with squinty eyes so I think he messed up," she snickered.

"Or he's still pissed you're callin' it violet and cream 'stead of purple and white," grumbled Gibbs.

"Okay, I get your issue with violet versus purple, but cream and white are massively different."

"Don't see it."

"White is for virgins," Jenny said brightly. "That's why I wore cream at our wedding."

He snorted, and then he paused.

"Wasn't that your grandmother's dress?" he asked, arching a brow.

She opened her mouth, and then closed it. She frowned.

"Uh," she began.

"Ha!" Gibbs laughed, giving her a look. "It runs in the family, eh?" he teased.

"I think it was in vogue to wear cream back then – "

"Save it, Jen, your grams got her card punched before her wedding."

"_Jesus_, Jethro," Jenny groaned, rolling her eyes and trying not to give into him by laughing. He gave her a smug look and she mustered a glare, stabbing her seafood extra hard for effect. "You talk about Grandmother in the abstract, but if we name Babes after her, you'll clean up your act real quick."

"You back to wantin' Abigayle?" Gibbs asked.

"I don't know," Jenny whined. "I _really_ like your father's suggestion."

Gibbs looked a little ruffled, and shrugged.

"Grace Kelly," he grunted pointedly.

"Nyehhh," muttered Jenny. "I told you, I do like Kelly. I wouldn't mind using it. But the Grace thing – "

"You got a problem with namin' our daughter after a Princess?"

"Well, _yes_," Jenny said bluntly. "She died in a tragic accident - I don't want to name her Diana or Sharon Tate either."

"Grace Kelly Gibbs," Gibbs said stubbornly.

"Abigayle Kelly sounds nice, too," Jenny insisted. "But so does Anna Kelly," she added, tilting her head. "We both have dead mothers," she sighed. "It makes it harder to choose one."

"Grandmother," he grunted.

Jenny lifted her shoulders, picking at her food. She scooped up some rice onto her fork.

"I think I like the name so much because she basically was my mother," Jenny confided simply. "I mean – I wouldn't have _half_ a clue how to do this if I hadn't had someone who was a good mother figure to me."

Gibbs nodded.

"We name 'er Anna, everyone's gonna think it's after that damn movie."

"That came out years ago, the Anna cycle is over," Jenny said flippantly. "It's back to the point where Anna wouldn't be too common – besides, it's supposed to be pronounced 'Anna' like 'ant' if it's got two 'n's' people are just ignorant. And 'Awhna' sounds pretentious if you're American."

Gibbs snorted, grinning. He thought a minute, and looked around the room.

"What was your grandmother's middle name again?"

"Uh, Gertrude."

"Damn."

"Yeah. No."

They both laughed.

"We could tell the Colonel we named 'er that," Gibbs suggested wickedly.

"He'd _shoot_ himself," Jenny said bluntly. Gibbs smirked – their lack of decision regarding names was driving Jasper Shepard crazy. He kept lecturing them – he and his wife had Jenny's name picked out six months before she was born.

"Kelly Abigayle?"

"I don't want to use Kelly as a first name," Jenny said warily. "I would feel weird – middle name, okay; first name, it's stealing another woman's baby name – but you're sure you don't want to name her Shannon?"

Gibbs shrugged. He shook his head – and she was secretly relieved, because she didn't care for the name, and she hated the idea of Gibbs calling their child 'Shan,' which he would inevitably do, because he shortened everything.

She took a deep breath.

"We still have time," she said, unconcerned. "I mean, I do want Abigayle, but I don't want people calling her Abby," she muttered with some finality.

Gibbs tilted his head, thinking about it. He knew he wasn't going to win with Grace Kelly, and he liked the other names Jenny held dear just fine. Anna hadn't been on the list until Jackson had mentioned that Gibbs' mother always wished she was 'Anna' and not 'Ann,' and she'd be mighty pleased if they went that way.

Jenny laughed suddenly.

"Holly wants us to name her Mackenzie Beth," she laughed. "You know," she arched her brows, "so we can call her – _Macbeth_."

Gibbs gave her a look, and Jenny tilted her head back, giggling. Gibbs shook his head, amused at how funny she thought it was – and making a mental note to call Holly Daniels and tell her to stop putting insane ideas into his wife's head.

Jenny sighed happily and quieted, looking around. She lifted her shoulders.

"We'll figure it out," she said. "We can decide – who best suits this room," she suggested.

She pointed at him with her fork.

"Hey, you know what – why don't we make a deal," she suggested.

"Hmm?"

"We can each pick a name from the five we narrowed it down to, and then you can choose the order when she's born."

Gibbs eyed her warily. That was a lot of responsibility to be saddled with. The name would be a permanent thing, after all. He decided for one more valiant attempt.

"Grace Kelly Gibbs would have a good monogram."

She started at him, a little taken aback – he knew, of course, that she'd been looking at monograms for the nursery walls, and for a baby bag, but she hadn't realized he'd been listening when she brought it up.

"No," she corrected slowly. "It wouldn't, actually – you're thinking of the wrong way to do a monogram," she murmured, and then tilted her head. "But a first and middle name with the same letter _would_," she paused, "be symmetrical."

Gibbs watched her, unsure what she was thinking.

"If we paired Anna _and_ Abigayle," she said, her face lighting up. "Your mom, my grandmother, A-G-A – the hard 'g' goes good with Gibbs," she went on, and paused, biting her lip. "What do you think?"

He tilted his head, shrugging a little.

"Lot of A's," he muttered.

She nodded, swallowing.

"Okay, well – let's stick with the deal," she said fairly. "Anna and Abigayle are both my picks, so you take yours, and we'll pick the order when the time comes."

He nodded – he couldn't pick Kelly, then, because she'd just said she only wanted it as the middle name. There were two other names on the five they'd agreed on – Grace, and Samantha. He decided he'd think more about it later – since they'd narrowed it down to five, name discussions had gotten less stressful, but before that he'd caused a huge argument because he hadn't taken it seriously enough.

"I like it in here," Jenny said suddenly, looking around. "It's lovely."

She smiled, chewing on her lip. She pushed aside her food, mostly finished by now, and sat forward, wincing uncomfortably as she adjusted her position.

"It looks like a professional did it, Jethro, thank you," she said earnestly.

He looked a little sheepish.

"S'nothin'," he mumbled. "My daughter, too."

"I know," she said humbly, shrugging. She widened her eyes and looked at him, almost in awe. "We only have like, a month left," she reminded him. "Then she's here and there's literally nothing about me that's not completely adult anymore."

She laughed a little, and he smirked – he'd felt like an adult for years before he'd met her, and she said things like this often. He understood why, but it always amused him, put a smile on his face.

"You scared, Jen?" he asked gruffly.

She licked her lips.

"You?" she retorted.

He met her eyes and shook his head – no. She scoffed and tossed her head, pushing her long red hair back.

"Fear is a state of mind."

"Pain," Gibbs corrected. "Pain is a state of mind."

"Whatever, I'm still getting an epidural," she laughed. "I don't care what Ziva says," she muttered. "I'm not a totally Zen, mind-over-matter warrior; I can't do it on mental control alone!"

Gibbs shrugged – he left decisions like that up to Jenny, though secretly he was glad she didn't buy into Ziva's homeopathic all-natural mania; he'd rather Jenny be comfortable than so miserable she couldn't even be happy.

He turned to his side and pulled a box towards him – the lone box of things that hadn't been put up.

"What's all this?" he grunted – she'd told him before, but he'd forgotten.

"My old stuff," she said. "There's a knit blanket Dad bought in Bosnia, and a mobile, and my christening dress."

Gibbs picked up the little dress, delicate and adorned with lace and small. He looked at her, his brows going up.

"She going to be this little?" he asked, almost apprehensive.

"I hope so," Jenny said dryly. "I'm not too keen on anything bigger than eight pounds," she joked.

He understood the humor behind that one, and pushed the box aside, standing up. He took their finished dinner and indicated he was going to get wine glasses, and she got up, tying her hair up and picking up the box. She folded the old blanket neatly, put away the christening dress, and set aside the mobile for Gibbs to hang later.

He came back in with two wine glasses; poured her a conservative amount and himself a large glass, and then he tilted his head at her.

"I got somethin' for you," he told her. He hesitated. "C'mere."

He picked up his glass, and she followed suit, following him curiously out of the baby's room. She glanced into their master bedroom as they went down the hall, and then followed him softly down the stairs.

He turned to her and rubbed his jaw, and she wondered why he was so nervous. He beckoned to her again, and she found herself following him into the basement.

"I was gonna build you a rocking chair," he started, raising his voice as he got ahead of her and crossed the basement. "Dad found this in the shed in Stillwater, last time I was up there helpin' him do the electric. I smoothed it out, fixed it up," he said, trailing off. "Here," he began, taking a sheet of something in the corner and dragging it around a workbench.

He pushed the rocking chair into the middle of the room, in front of her, and gestured at it gallantly.

"It's stable, and it rocks pretty smooth – it doesn't match," he said, crouching down and running his hands over it. "I was gonna find that damn cream colour you like, then paint 'er name on it in _violet_," he rolled his eyes, then cleared his throat, "but I found mom's initials carved into the arms, see," he pointed, and Jenny came closer, looking.

He paused, watching her trace her fingers in the grooved wood.

"Dad said he built this for her," Gibbs said. "Carved her initials in it, best he could. Then she carved mine," he pointed to a place near the originals carvings, "after she had me." Gibbs looked up, meeting her eyes warily. "I can paint it if you want, but I thought you'd like it. I can trace Mom's initials, trace mine, carve yours – then you can carve the baby's."

Jenny kept running her fingers over the markings – just A-G-S for Gibbs' mother, because she'd had no middle name and always used her maiden instead, he'd told her – then the tiny, feminine L-G-J she'd added later.

Gibbs clenched his jaw, clearing his throat again.

"I got to get you a pillow or somethin,'" he said, and she laughed hoarsely.

"I want to keep it like it is," she said quietly, nodding quickly. "You – I like your idea, painting colours in the initials – can we put this by the fire, though? I think it would look nice in the living room."

He shrugged, pleased she liked it.

"Put it wherever you want," he agreed.

She straightened and crossed her arms protectively over herself, looking at the rocking chair reverently – it hadn't occurred to her that it was one thing they didn't have yet. She licked her lips, and compressed them – it was almost September, and then smack at the beginning of October she'd – she'd actually be sitting in this chair with a _baby_.

She turned her head and looked at him with wide eyes.

"I am terrified," she admitted, huskily, and quite suddenly. "Jethro," she started.

He stood up quickly, and he grinned, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around her. He ran his hands over her back and pressed his forehead against hers, shaking his head a little. She reached up and squeezed his shoulders tightly, her eyes searching his in a panic, and he laughed at her.

"It isn't funny," she gasped.

"Yeah, Jen," he said lightly, shrugging. "Who the hell isn't terrified?" he asked bluntly. "Hell, we didn't even get a dog first."

"Oh, fuck," she swore, letting out a breath. She started to cry, her lips shaking in a smile. "God, how stupid," she teased.

"You can't be good at this if you think you know exactly what you're doin'," he remarked sagely. "It's like takin' care of your guys on the battlefield," he went on unexpectedly. "You have a plan, but you got to be able to adjust."

She laughed, wriggling her hand up to wipe her eyes.

"You wait until I tell Pride and the others you think of them as your practice kids," she choked out.

He pinched her gently in the ribs, and his hand found her abdomen, lazily wondering if he'd feel a kick or something at this hour. Jenny pressed her palms firmly against his chest, her fingertips curling into his shirt.

"What if I'm not good at this?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"What if you are?" he challenged. He shrugged again, tilting his head. "What's all this 'I' bull?" he demanded. "You want my help or not?"

She licked her lips, coaxed into a smile again. He leaned forward to kiss her temple, his lips lingering there. He closed his eyes a moment, briefly and silently grateful she was his and this had all turned out exactly how he wanted it to.

She crinkled her nose and lifted her chin, mustering a mock look of superiority.

"Ah – then what if you're not good at this?" she asked playfully, her voice still quaking.

He gave her a smug look.

"I got seven years practice on Kayla," he retorted proudly, referring to his goddaughter, Kayla Vance. "And trust me, Jen, we can't be worse than whoever raised those Kittenshit brats."

Jenny burst into soft laughter.

"Kardashian," she murmured into his shirt, shaking her head in disbelief.

She swiped at her eyes with finality, twisting her mouth in a smile as she looked up at him. He looked at her seriously, running his thumb along her lower lip, and she was very aware that he was five years older than her, calmer about a lot of things, more ready for a lot of things in some areas.

"Jen," he said seriously. "We got a house, we got jobs, we want her," he listed. He lifted his shoulders. "Not much else we can offer until she gets here."

Jenny stared at him, absorbed in his words – comforted, of course, and suddenly feeling silly; she rarely had, until this surprising point, worried about her abilities; she'd been too focused on everything else. He, naturally, had worried about her and her health, but it was startling to know he didn't seem at all fazed by the idea of having, very soon, a tiny baby who would depend completely on them.

She pursed her lips, trying not to start crying again, and she gave him a stern, smoky look.

"You promise me, Jethro," she said hoarsely. "You – when I have this baby, you have to freak out, _once_," she threatened, gesturing to herself. "Like this. At least once – or it's not fair. Or you're just not real."

He smirked, and gave her an arrogant look, pulling her into a tight hug. He nodded, but rolled his eyes, as if he were mocking her, pretending to promise, and he hoped she didn't notice how hard his heart was beating, because that advice was the exact same his own father had told him two weekends ago when he'd panicked in the middle of a general store in Stillwater.

* * *

><p><span><em>End of August, 2016<em>  
><span><em>Alexandria, Virginia<em>

* * *

><p><em>-Alexandra<em>


	5. Anna

a/n:

* * *

><p><em><span>October 6th, 2016<span>_  
><em><span>Bethesda Naval Hospital<span>_

_"Anna"_

* * *

><p>Leroy Jethro Gibbs, no doubt influenced by old sitcoms and terribly dramatic movies, thought the ordeal would be more dramatic – and at first, it wasn't; there was no broken water, no fractured bones, no screaming and threatening to castrate him. When Jenny started feeling sick, and started having contractions, she leaned against the doorway, peering into the basement, and calmly told him she needed him to take her to Bethesda – she'd already called her obstetrician.<p>

He didn't panic as much as he thought he would – not like some caricature of a man – slash – new – father; he got what he needed to get, asked her the right questions, made sure she was okay and – when they got to the hospital – called her father, and his, to let them know.

He was anxious, but in a normal way, and Jen seemed to be in a good place. She did hold his hand pretty tightly, but it wasn't violent. She made a snarky remark about the hospital gown.

"You know," she remarked, when she was introduced to the two male nurses and the male Navy medical student who would be assisting Dr. Lange, "They're the first men other than you to see me naked from the waist down." She paused, and grinned at him, her head on a couple of pillows. "They might have to touch my cervix," she teased. "You've never done that."

He pinched one of her knuckles lightly and glared at her, looking behind him at the monitor she was hooked up to.

"Holly sent me an article about women who've had orgasms during birth," Jenny whispered. "Would that make you jealous?"

He gave her a look that was some combination of annoyed, appalled, and curious. She laughed, then winced, and then tilted her head back. She grit her teeth and held his hand tighter.

"Jethro," she said quietly, "I feel a lot of pressure and," she paused, her breath hiking sharply. "I think I'm more ready for an epidural than they think," she breathed shortly.

He nodded and went to get the nurse, and even then, things didn't get dicey; Dr. Lange just darted in, checked something, and then told Jenny quite brusquely and mildly apologetically that it was too late for an epidural.

Gibbs thought Jenny handled that remarkably well – the problem, Dr. Lange muttered as she sat down on a metal stool and started what Gibbs had thought would be a long process, was that Jenny' labor had progressed very quickly. It wasn't a bad thing; it just meant she was going to have to do it naturally, and they were going to be parents in the next hour.

He wouldn't have wanted to be in her place for the world, judging by the whole experience – especially since unlike Ziva, who had kept trying to convince Jenny that natural childbirth was the best, Jenny hadn't spent months practicing techniques to ease the pain.

Regardless – she did it, and she seemed okay once the hard stuff was over, and the baby was screaming impressively loudly. She was breathing hard and staring at the ceiling through heavy eyes when Gibbs bent down to kiss her and push her hair back.

Jenny laughed, gasping for breath. She started to sit up, and Gibbs adjusted her pillows.

"'M okay," she murmured.

"Gunny, you want to do the honors?" the Navy doctor asked, and Gibbs hurried over, suddenly remembering that was part of his job, the tradition.

He swallowed hard, rubbing his hands on his jeans as he stepped up. She was still screaming, red and small – but a little cleaner at this point, and Gibbs did as instructed before they placed her in his arms.

"Take her to Mom," Dr. Lange said nicely, smiling warmly. She patted her own chest. "Lay her against Jennifer's chest, on her bare skin," she instructed.

Gibbs nodded, suddenly nervous and unsure. This baby was so little, so light and fragile, and she was so loud and – this was _their_ baby, she was coming home with them, and that was very – humbling, it was humbling and it was daunting.

Jenny reached out to him as he approached, but she didn't sit up anymore. Her hands shook, and he sat down gently next to her, silently obeying Dr. Lange's instructions. Jenny was quick to take the baby and hold her close, breathing out shakily.

"Oh my god," she said softly, licking her lips. She bowed her head, holding the baby girl gently but somehow protectively and tightly all at the same time. She moved her legs, winced, and swallowed hard. "She's so little," she breathed hoarsely. "Jethro," she said, looking up at him.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead hard, placing a hand over hers on the baby's head.

He cleared his throat, trying to think of something better to say than 'You did good, Jen' – he didn't want to be cliché – and she pre-empted him, anyway.

She – moved like she was flinching, and squeezed her eyes shut. He pulled back. She made a whimpering noise.

"Mrs. Gibbs, are you feeling okay?" one of the nurses asked.

Then an alarm screamed, and something started beeping, and it sounded like Dr. Lange's metal stool toppled to the floor.

"Oxytocin, no, just up the dosage," he heard someone mutter.

Jenny tilted her head back, parting her lips. She kept her eyes shut. Gibbs noticed her hands shaking, and he reached for the baby.

"Jen?" he asked, his heart nearly stopping. "Jenny?" he repeated. He looked around, and in a flash there was a nurse standing there, reaching past him and taking the newborn.

"Mrs. Gibbs, can you hear me?" asked the other nurse, appearing and holding Jenny's eyes open, shining a light in them.

She turned her head sharply and twitched away, moving her lips.

"Mrs. Gibbs, are you in pain?"

Gibbs stood up quickly, bending over her.

"She's nodding," he barked, looking around wildly. "Hetty," he snapped – he was so used to calling her doctor 'Hetty'.

The OBGYN was already up and coming over, making a signal to the Navy medical student.

"Nursery," she barked at one nurse – the one with the baby – and before Gibbs could blink, his newborn daughter was gone, and the alarms seemed to be getting louder.

He was shoved out of the way. He pushed back.

"Jen!" he almost yelled, putting his hand on her head.

"Jethro, I need you to step back – "

"She's unconscious!" he growled, turning on the doctor sharply.

"Gunny!" she barked in an imposing tone – a light went off, and a couple of other people flooded the room. "Get him out," she said to one of them.

He was escorted – shoved unceremoniously – out of the delivery room by the Navy student, and when he tried to ask what was going on, he was ignored, and the door was slammed in his face – and as he was just standing there, in the middle of an empty, immaculately clean hospital hallway, blindsided and terrified, he regret that he'd ever thought to himself that it wasn't dramatic at all.

* * *

><p>He wasn't sure how long it had been when a nurse he hadn't seen before walked him kindly to the waiting room. He didn't say anything to her, because she didn't seem to know who he was or what he was waiting for. He didn't know how long it had been after he sat down in the empty waiting room of labor and delivery when the doors burst open and the Colonel came storming in.<p>

He was in full uniform, and he was sweating – he'd probably booked it from the Pentagon.

"I was in a crisis meeting," he growled, a little too loudly. "I would have been here sooner," he defended, and stopped in front of Gibbs. "What's going on; is she done? It hasn't been that long – what the hell are you doin' out here, son?" he demanded, and then smirked. "She kick you out?"

He came on strong, on an adrenaline high, and it took him a moment to notice that Gibbs wasn't smiling, wasn't standing to shake his hand, wasn't – wasn't saying anything, or doing anything at all. He noticed how significantly pale the kid was – and he stepped back, looking at him critically.

"Gibbs," he said clearly, raising his voice.

Gibbs seemed to snap out of it. He jerked in a startled manner, and moved his head, unsticking his jaw.

"She had the baby," he said quietly.

"And?" the Colonel demanded.

Gibbs didn't say anything, and the Colonel put his hand out, shaking Gibbs a little.

"Gunny," he said curtly, his chest starting to feel tight with apprehension. "Is my daughter okay?" he asked roughly.

"Haven't heard," Gibbs said, rubbing his face hard. He covered his eyes a moment.

The Colonel stared at him, dumbstruck. He swallowed hard, and then dragged up a metal chair and sat down as close as possible, and leaning over, trying to catch Gibbs' eye, got on his level.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice low.

Gibbs rubbed his jaw, and then stared at his palms, lifting his shoulders.

"She did great," Gibbs said mechanically. "Seemed easy as it could be, she got through it … didn't get an epidural, but she was still fine," he paused, shaking his head. "Then she wasn't. She passed out. Some alarms went off," he stopped, gritting his teeth. "They booted me."

The Colonel clenched his fist, suddenly looking around sharply for a nurse, a staff member – anyone who he could berate for some information. They had clearly told Gibbs nothing – nothing – about his wife's condition. He didn't see anyone, and he leaned back. He lunged forward almost immediately, trying to quell panic, but he was agitated, scared.

"The baby?" he asked, attempting to stay relaxed for Gibbs' sake.

Gibbs turned his head, and nodded – Jasper felt a small rush of relief.

"She's okay," Gibbs revealed in a rush. "They took her away from me, uh, to – the nursery, but, uh – "

"Tell me about her," Colonel said quickly.

"Seven pounds, ten ounces," Gibbs said. "I heard 'em sayin', while they handed her to me. That's pretty little, and she's only eighteen inches," he said gruffly.

"Did Jen hold her?" Colonel demanded anxiously.

"Yeah," Gibbs answered hoarsely. "Yeah, for a minute." He fell silent, and then tightened his jaw. "She stopped cryin', when Jen took her," he managed quietly. "The baby."

Gibbs put his head down, rubbing his jaw hard again – it seemed to be a nervous habit. The Colonel watched him, and looked around for a nurse again – why was no one here? The boy was a mess, and the Colonel didn't blame him – he couldn't sort out his own feelings: he was angry, worried about his daughter, worried about his son in law, relieved the baby was okay – confused. He imagined none of his emotions compared to Gibbs'.

"They tell you anything?" the Colonel asked desperately. "Is she … in surgery? Does this stuff happen a lot?"

Gibbs just kept shaking his head. He didn't know a damn thing. He'd been sitting here for almost an hour, he realized, and he still didn't know anything – he just kept seeing Jen's pale face, the look of pain that crossed her mouth before they pushed him away.

The Colonel got up. He paced violently, and then he looked down at Gibbs.

"Gunny," he said sharply. "You got to stop thinkin' what you're thinkin'," he ordered.

Gibbs stared at the ground. He put his hands over his face. The Colonel paced back, and sat down, the legs of his chair scraping the floor as he moved closer. He placed his hand on his son-in-law's shoulder. Gibbs stayed very still, and then turned his head, pushing his hands back through his hair, staring at Jasper like a deer in the headlights.

"This isn't right," he said hoarsely. "This isn't what s'pose to happen. Jasper, I can't lose her."

Gibbs' voice cracked hard, and the Colonel winced.

"No, you can't, can you?" he asked, half to himself.

Regardless of how he mocked Gibbs and pretended to dislike him, he knew the man loved Jenny more than anything. There wasn't anyone Jasper would rather her spend her life with than Gibbs, and he hated seeing him like this almost as much as he was scared for his daughter's life. He grit his teeth and swallowed, looking up. He shook Gibbs a little.

"What's her name?" he asked. "My granddaughter – your little girl?"

Gibbs rubbed his brow, his jaw set painfully tightly.

"She…we didn't…she doesn't have one yet," he choked. "Jen and I had a deal," he paused when the sound of a door being opened interrupted him, and he bolted out of his chair.

The Colonel was just as quick to stand, knocking over his metal folding chair, and he held Gibbs back silently indicating he'd go ask – he was more prepared to deal with it.

The Colonel approached the nurse neutrally, asking firmly but gently if she knew anything, who they could ask – and she looked up some things on the computer. She smiled, but it was a very guarded look.

"I don't have a physician's report yet," she said nicely. "I'm only comfortable saying that if it's been this long, it's probably good – in most situations when childbirth goes south quickly, the longer it takes to hear, the better. Maternal deaths are usually fairly immediate."

The Colonel wasn't sure how much relief that gave him, but he returned to Gibbs, sat down, and repeated what he'd heard verbatim.

"What happened to her?" Gibbs asked hoarsely.

He didn't have an answer for that.

"Gunny, Jen can make it," Jasper said firmly. "She isn't going to up and leave you alone like this," he fumbled awkwardly for a jibe to make, "she's not stupid enough to let you raise a kid alone." He stopped, thinking quickly. "Jethro," he said gently, kicking the other man's foot sternly. "You got to name this baby for her."

Gibbs didn't look up; he looked away. The Colonel pushed his chair back and crouched down. He put a hand on the back of Gibbs' head, forcibly making him look at him, and giving him a long, hard, paternal look.

"You can't do anything else for her right now, Gunny, nothin' but take care of her baby," he warned.

Gibbs glared at him blankly.

"If she dies?" he asked aggressively, his tone raw.

"You aren't gonna let my daughter down," Jasper snapped firmly. He grit his teeth, wary of discussing this in terms of death, but forced to face a possible reality. "If it turns out that you're all this baby has, you're gonna do right by her and Jennifer," he paused, trying not to let his own voice crack. "Gibbs, get up. I want to see my granddaughter."

"They took her."

"Nurse says you're free to go hold her," Jasper said gruffly. "That's what you're – we're – gonna do."

Gibbs looked at him heavily, feeling the weight of the Colonel's hand heavily on the back of his head. He was suddenly relieved Jasper was here, and he understood that it must be taking all of the Colonel's strength to be calm when he'd just found out his daughter had an uncertain fate.

"Get your ass up, Gunny," the Colonel ordered again. "I don't know all of what you're goin' though, but the only thing that's gonna make it even half better is your daughter – that I promise."

Gibbs took a slow, deep breath – and nodded.

* * *

><p>The Colonel thought there were a lot of babies in the nursery, but he didn't really know what the usual haul was. He was impressed that Gibbs seemed to hone in on his immediately when they stopped outside of the glass. He pointed, and said gruffly.<p>

"That's her."

The Colonel put his hand on the glass and looked down, and he grinned, forgetting for a moment that there was uncertainty surrounding them. He reached over with his other hand and clapped his hand on Gibbs' back.

"What're you waiting for, Gunny?" he asked.

Gibbs nodded and went to knock on the nursery door, explaining in a quiet voice that they'd like to hold Baby Girl Gibbs. A young, blonde nurse smiled sweetly and complied immediately; handing off the baby and giving him a wrinkly nose and a cute smile, and bounced off.

It was the second time Gibbs held his daughter, and though he still felt a little awed, and somewhat anxious, the minute he settled her against his chest and looked down at her wide, curious blue eyes, he felt comforted – the Colonel was right; she made it better, even just a little.

He walked over carefully, standing so he could show her off.

"Damn," swore the Colonel, lowering his head and looking eagerly down at her. He reached out and placed his hand lightly on the comfortably swaddled blanket, his large hand almost comical on the baby's stomach. "Look at that – hell, she's good-lookin', for bein' half yours," he said wryly.

Gibbs smiled a little, feeling a little better – just a little – now that he had his daughter in his arms.

"Yeah," he agreed quietly. "Good thing Jen's a knock-out."

The Colonel straightened up a little. He moved his arms, giving Gibbs a look, and Gibbs stepped forward and handed him the baby gingerly, warily making sure he had her. It wasn't that Gibbs didn't trust the Colonel – he knew how to raise a kid, after all – it was that he didn't trust himself, and he'd never forgive himself if he did something to hurt the baby.

Though – he swallowed hard, and thought he'd rather explain a scratch or a bump than have no one to tell at all.

"Baby Girl Gibbs," the Colonel said gruffly, moving his arms slightly in a rocking motion. He looked up, arched a brow. "You got to fix that."

Gibbs shrugged, his hands hanging at his sides limply. His eyes on his daughter, he shook his head somewhat uncertainly.

"I can't name her without Jen," he said stubbornly. "We had a deal."

"Son," the Colonel said gently. "Last thing she needs is stress like that when she," he faltered, unsure what to say, what to promise – he went on gruffly: "My girl loves you. She trusts you. You won't disappoint her," he promised. "What's her name?"

Gibbs stood thinking, looking down at the swaddled pink blanket and the blue eyes. He reached forward and touched her small cheek, and then cupped her head in his hand, smiling little more at the soft feel of her small knit cap.

It was October sixth, four days after Jenny's due date – his own mother's birthday, to be exact, though he hadn't told anyone that. He swallowed hard, thinking of how young he'd been when he lost his mother, thinking about Jen, and the names she liked – and it was easy.

She wanted Abigail, but she didn't want the nickname 'Abby' to ever stick. She wanted to remember her grandmother, but she also liked Jackson's suggestion that they pretty up Gibbs' mother's name.

Gibbs cleared his throat.

"Anna," he said, running his thumb over her brow.

"Anna…?"

"Abigail," Gibbs supplied. He nodded. "Anna Abigail Gibbs."

The Colonel looked down at her, and smiled proudly, nodding his head. It was a good, classic, simple name, and he didn't think Gibbs could have done better – he was particularly, secretly glad it hadn't ended up Samantha, because he didn't have the heart to tell Jenny he'd dated a Samantha once and she was a wretch of a girl.

Gibbs looked over at the other babies, and took a deep breath. He stepped back, trying to gain his bearings, and just when he thought he might have gotten his heart to start beating right again, a door slammed and Dr. Lange appeared, marching towards him.

He barely had a moment to feel sick with apprehension – because she smiled.

He reached out and gripped the Colonel's forearm tightly, and Jasper turned to look.

"Hetty," he greeted pleasantly, albeit tightly.

She nodded to him, giving a small salute of respect, and stepped forward.

"Jethro," she said, the tense, business-like demeanor gone – back to her old self. "Jennifer is safe. She's recovering in a suite in this wing," she told him, skipping explanations so he would know right away.

Gibbs shared a look with the Colonel, and stepped forward, searching the shorter woman's face desperately.

"What happened to her?" he asked, too relieved to feel angry – and suddenly, he was tired; exhausted.

"It isn't something common, but it isn't uncommon either," Dr. Lange said calmly. "She had some severe hemorrhaging that I wasn't able to control with a simple oxytocin drip. I took her to an operating room once you had been removed, and we took some steps to make sure she would pull through. It can take a while, sometimes," she paused. "I won't get in to specifics right now. She's had a blood transfusion, but she's quite alright, and she's awake."

Gibbs swallowed hard, and nodded. He caught her hand, and squeezed it.

"She didn't have surgery?" he asked.

"No, Gunny," Hetty said warmly. "She really is _okay_. She can have as many more children as she likes," she added, winking.

That had been what Gibbs wanted to hear, though he didn't realize it until she pre-empted it.

"I suppose you want to see her?" Hetty asked wryly.

Gibbs didn't have to say anything; the look on his face answered it. He reached for the baby at the same time the Colonel thought to hand her over, and Hetty pointed him in the right direction, holding the Colonel back.

"Shall we catch up for a moment, Jasper?" she asked pointedly.

He nodded, though he was eager to go see his daughter – make sure, in person, that she was okay. He knew he needed to give Gibbs a moment alone with her – ah, alone with her and Anna.

* * *

><p>He was quiet as he entered the room he was directed to, and though Dr. Lange had said she was awake, Jenny certainly looked out cold when he walked in. He approached silently, and made sure there was room for him to sit down on the edge of the bed.<p>

As he did so, she shifted, and opened her eyes heavily, moving her head a little and blinking slowly. She focused on him, and smiled, breathing out slowly. She still looked pale, though there was more of a healthy colour to her cheeks than had been an hour ago, and she was clearly exhausted, but she kept smiling at him.

She moved to sit up, and he reached out one hand, shaking his head.

"'M okay," she murmured soothingly. "I'm tired, but I'm okay, just," she paused, licking her lips. "More sore than after a normal delivery," she admitted.

"Take it easy," he said gruffly, pleading with her silently.

She nodded, still sitting up just a little.

"Oxytocin, transfusions, and Hetty had to massage my uterus manually," Jenny said lightly, her voice scratchy as if it were on a bad radio station. "I have no shame left anymore," she joked quietly.

He looked a little wary at the though, and she leaned forward some, moving her hands, holding out her palms.

"Is she okay?" she asked earnestly.

Gibbs nodded, a grin breaking out on his face. He shifted, showing the baby off.

"She's perfect, Jen," he said smugly, moving closer and helping Jenny take her.

He watched protectively as Jenny snuggled the baby against her chest, making sure she was comfortable and wrapped tight in her blanket, and she looked down at her with a small, admiring wrinkle in her nose. She moved a little, rocking her.

"I was kind of out of it," Jenny said huskily. "When all those alarms started blaring, I thought something was wrong with _her_."

Gibbs shook his head. Overcome, he leaned forward abruptly, carefully maneuvering so he wouldn't hurt the baby but was still able to hug them both, and he put his arms around Jen and pulled her close, pressing his lips to her cheek, and then her temple, and then burying his face in her neck for a moment.

"You scared me, Jen," he mumbled, almost incoherent. He gripped her tightly with one hand, anchoring her to him, to this world. He took a deep breath, and leaned back a little, catching her eye. "What the hell was I gonna do, without you?"

She blinked at him, a little taken aback by the ferocity of his emotion, a little startled – maybe she didn't realize they hadn't told him anything; maybe she didn't realize he'd thought she was dead.

She lowered her lashes a little, and she yawned, looking a little sheepish to break the moment like that.

"You would have lived, Jethro," she said gently, tilting her head.

He shook his head negatively, and pushed her hair back, kissing her temple again. He lingered a moment, and then shifted, resting his forehead on her shoulder and looking down at the baby.

"What did you name her?" Jenny asked pleasantly, loosening the blanket a little to get a better look.

Gibbs cleared his throat.

"Anna," he said confidently. "Anna Abigail."

"An-na," Jenny pronounced musically, and then turned her head, her lips puckering. "Those are both my picks," she said. "Jethro – "

"I like it," he interrupted stubbornly. He lifted his head and nodded firmly. "It fits."

Jenny smiled and looked down, loosening the blanket some more. She opened it until she could see the clean hospital onesie and Anna's hands and toes. She cuddled her up looser in the blanket and leaned back tiredly, lifting her closer, pressing her lips to her forehead.

Gibbs ran his hand over her hair again, working through the tangles gently, and he was surprised when she lifted her head, caught his eye, and turned up her nose a little, trying to look away quickly before he saw the tears.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, sheepishly. "I'm not upset I'm happy," she promised in a rush. "I'm very – I'm very happy," she repeated, a laugh bubbling to her lips. "She's just – she's so cute for a tiny little red thing – "

"'Cause she's yours, Jen," he said smugly.

She nodded, holding Anna closer.

"I never expected I'd be so emotional when I – "

"I know," he said gruffly, hand running through her hair. He kissed the side of her head, nodding a little. "You did good, Jen," he said finally – he didn't give a damn anymore if it was lame. "I love you," he told her sincerely.

She nodded, kissing Anna's hand. She leaned back and met his eyes.

"You want another turn?" she offered.

He gave her a lopsided smirk, and tilted his head towards the door.

"You got to let me go get 'im, Jen," he drawled. "Didn't let it show, but he was about as torn up as I was."

She pursed her lips, and widened her eyes.

"Dad," she remembered. She bit her lip. "I'll remember not to bleed like a stuck pig next time," she joked weakly, and Gibbs gave her a look, then pointed down at Anna.

"She held it together for us," he said, waving to catch the baby's pretty, curious eyes.

Jenny beamed, and indicated Gibbs could get the Colonel. He got up, set his shoulders back, and strolled over, opening the door and stepping out to meet the Colonel's eyes – and in a less stressful fashion, he nodded and beckoned forward, pretending this was the first time he'd seen his father-in-law – so he could do it without all the scary parts.

The Colonel came in, shutting the door behind him, and burst into a grin the moment he saw Jenny sitting up with the baby. He strode over rapidly, standing by the bed and bending down to look. Jenny looked up, her eyes wide and expectant; she gave him a wry look.

"Can you believe it?" she asked slyly.

He just shook his head. He grit his teeth and put his hand on her head paternally, giving her a chaste kiss. It was a little difficult for him to come to terms with the fact that his only child was in front of him – with a child.

"Thank god you're okay, Jennifer," he said seriously, gesturing at Gibbs. "I thought that one was going to have an aneurysm, the way he was carryin' on – cryin', screamin'…" the Colonel paused, and Jenny thought it must not be too much of an exaggeration, since Gibbs didn't so much protest as roll his eyes and look down, "…not 'cause he'd miss you, 'cause he can't take care of a kid – "

"Daddy," Jenny interrupted, snorting, as Gibbs responded this time, giving him a glare.

"I'll give you a run for your money, _Pops_," he threatened.

"You think you can do better'n me?" the Colonel snorted, straightening up.

Jenny shook her head, pulling her knees up a little and holding the baby closer. Gibbs approached the bed and stood next to her, folding his arms. He nodded smugly.

"You got some problem with what I did for you?" the Colonel asked, gesturing to Jenny.

Gibbs opened his mouth to retort, and then snapped it shut, suddenly looking gobsmacked. He looked down at Jenny as if he had literally, genuinely _just_ realized she was someone's daughter, and then he looked at Anna, and he imagined her growing up, and looking like Jenny, and trying to leave the house in tiny shorts, or driving boys around in a red mustang, and he pointed an accusatory finger at the Colonel.

"What the hell were you thinking, letting a seventeen-year-old go out with me?" he demanded.

Jenny gave him a startled look, and the Colonel arched an eyebrow.

"You have any idea what _I_ was thinkin'? I could have – she could have," Gibbs stammered, feeling a sort of retroactive panic mixed with a weird kind of paternal paranoia.

He looked down at Jenny and Anna again, struggling with this newfound respect and understanding of the Colonel.

"Look out, he's got his own baby girl now," Jenny teased, winking at her father. She looked up at Gibbs. "You could be _kind_ of grateful he was so trusting," she pointed out – it _had_ worked out considerably well, after all.

To their surprise, the Colonel burst out laughing, reaching across the bed to slap Gibbs on the back hard in a friendly, welcome-to-the-club sort of way. Gibbs scowled half-heartedly, and Colonel Shepard gave him a knowing look and held his hand out towards Anna gallantly.

"The hard part just started," he said wisely, and Gibbs looked down at his newborn daughter, and everything changed.

* * *

><p><span><em>October 6th, 2016<em>  
><span><em>Bethesda Naval Hospital<em>

* * *

><p><em>-Alexandra<em>

_the end !  
>*be on the look out for 'Katharyn' which will probably come next. <em>


End file.
